The order had been clear, ‘Leave nothing behind, absolutely nothing.’ Our job was simple, clean up planet Earth and make it ready for it’s new inhabitants. They are hoping to move in, a week on Tuesday.
the ferocious fire
swept away all in its path –
ready for new life
A line had been drawn down the middle of our street. Someone told me it was young Billy who did it, late last night, using some green paint he’d found in his dad’s old shed. It wasn’t a very straight line, far from it, but it would do. As the sun rose over the terraced houses on our estate we gathered, out of sight, armed with our bricks and bottles. We crouched there silently, each of us watching that green line. We knew, before long, one of them would try and cross it. When they did, we’d be ready.
this lust for revenge
is part of our heritage
etched into our souls
“Screw you!” I shout through bloody cracked lips. He stares at me, slouched on the cold granite floor, and smiles. The ash from his cigarette drops onto his cheap suit. Slowly, he bends down and spins the bottle again. I watch its slow revolution, desperately praying for it to point to someone else. The silent prayer is wasted. In the dim light I can see the relief on their faces. Once again it was my turn to be cleansed of all sin.
half-light and silence fills the confessional box – my turn to repent
It’s got to be here somewhere. The text you sent, just before they took you away, led me here, to your chaotic workshop. What was it you were working on old man? What had you discovered that made you such a danger to them? Was it something in the half-finished box? Or perhaps I’m supposed to decipher some sort of message from the board of stones and shells? Help me, my old friend. What am I looking for? They’ll be coming for me next. I’m running out of time.
they’re taking away
the hours and minutes –
leaving us timeless