There Is No Sanctuary

Old people’s homes.

There is no sanctuary

Not here

It is a meagre shelter

The structure is unsound

The walls crumble

The foundations

Are undermined

As old earth dries

There is a settling

Memories fall out of the cracks

In the ceiling

There is laughter

Among the tears

Catch them by the tail

If you can

Let them sustain you

As the sun moves

Overhead

Track its progress

In the shadow

On the floor

It reaches further in

As the day dies

Dark fingers

Devour the unsuspecting

Carry them away

Into darker halls

Backs to the wall

As hate falls

From a cobalt sky

They told you to

Lie beneath a table

Or stand in a doorway

But the door is locked

The table is on the fire

It is the only way

To keep warm

The sun is a cold compress

There are no bombs

That was a memory

From yesterday

Flooding through

Demented synapses

A public service broadcast

We were naïve

Enough to believe

But the world is running

On empty

And one day

It will be midnight

As the cuckoo clock ticks

Tomorrow is on hold

There is nothing better to do

Other than to survive

Until support staff arrive

With chicken soup.