Lacuna

Such a plush sunny morning
the sky’s blue picked out
like a favourite swatch
warm shadows, starlings
and flatmates who play
their tape on a loop
for once have gone out
it’s hard to comprehend
that kid got stabbed
Sunday. He’s in my head
like a popular tune
nagging me for something
on the walk to the shop
parade windows noting
it all like they take
a keen interest in the world.
Bread, apples, soya milk.
It may be we mistake
the density of things
what’s real, what less so.
Where does what has happened
go? Wreaths by the road.
And rooted in this shifting
earth, we are our hearts.

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Twitter: @ianjmclachlan
Instagram: /ianjmclachlan