World Pieces | poem
The bomb killed twenty two,
twelve too young to drive.
On the coast, I hear it - blasted white caps
The fish they feed are dying too.
At his concert, Matty yells,
We’re proud to be from Manchester!
The crowd spouts roses, glow sticks,
and smoke. I leave - too dizzy to sing
Security stops me - checks my pockets
for bombs - finds
of the world.
Why do you have these? They scream.
I thought music would fuse them, I plead,
reaching and pulling God
from the smog, but they can’t see.
and puff - too numb
to feel a heartbeat.