The night after Guy Fawkes

the sky still reverberates.

Explosives in the suburbs.

For an hour or two we might

be cowering in Aleppo, 

clearing Isis out of Iraq. 

Our animals don't know the difference. 

 

A car roars down the street,

followed by another relentless

burst of gunfire. The wind stirs. 

This safety valve. Households

gather in gardens in the chilly dark, 

protected by numbers, 

blowing up our minds.