Now living in a black vortex. In here, all about where you’re from, not where you are, not where the ashes were scattered, or the bodies of the past lain.
After that Election that cancelled Elections, hijacked nation. Wasn’t watching closely, my wilful ignorance, screens blocked my view, wasn’t processing what the dogs knew.
My ‘Homeland’, I now worshipped that. It had old coastal defences, it brewed, I drank and danced there, but now, a scramble of disparate cells, the city states, totalitarian towns, independent village republics, light skins, dark skins, middle of the road skins, Trinitarians and Prophets, all those past courteous genuflections now gone, forever.
Passé Cold War underground shelters are stocked by high street retailers.
I hear there’s a new tapestry being made by secular hermits, one day it might hang alongside that other one with the French name, the one school children visit then forget about.
*(This first appeared on – adhocfiction.com – Oct 2015)