my mother had added through a sad smile,
I did a usual grunt but after the phone went down asked what
war? A glance outside revealed
nothing, a slight breeze playing the dry leaves
for suckers. The sky was as huge and odd
as always with no hint of bombers. I discussed lunch
but my son was ambivalent when
he would usually rile against onions, whatever, I
am worried about the war, he muttered. I turned on
the radio who were only playing smooth hits, even
the metal stations. A leaflet was thrust through the
door with instructions on how to resist
honey traps and a bulleted list
of arguments to use against those who said
there was no war.
And on the street my neighbour
with children and cases is shoved
in a government bus
to take her with sneers
back to the war that she fled from.