He opens the door and shuffles out,
picks up the milk. The cardigan is loose,
slippers trodden down, stubble
waiting to be shaved.
The rifle click breaks the silence.
An electronic voice crackles through
the sunshine.
The door slams shut. He fumbles
in his pockets.
He loses his keys.
He finds keys, tries the door,
drops the keys.
Tear gas shrouds the street. Masked
men lift, drag him, feet trailing.
Masked men load him into a black van,
drive away. The loud hailer sputters:
Go inside now
This is your final warning.
Comply or be shot.
One; two; three;
four; five;
Your time is running out
Six; seven;
eight; nine.
You’re out of time.
Lie down. Arms, feet spread.
You know the position.
It’s all over. Stay inside.
We are watching.
Keep writing 