there is no beauty in terrornothing we can do
a mother weeping in the street
has no lasting horror
our crying eyes no memory
the blackest night no end
a taxi whores late night back streets
police bang on a door
there are four of them
they do not ask questions
but barge into the room
there are no signs of life
a young officer opens the fridge
and the search is over
there is no beauty in terror
sorrow gives way to anger
policemen cry
they think of their daughters
there are no screams now
only the silent anger, fear
the lingering hold of child against chest
and the blackness that will not quit
that bastard darkness singing his song
Copyright© michael dennis/Pulp Press Book Publishers