ElevenEleven

[smokingboot]

ELEVENELEVEN

I wish you were not dead.
What else is there to say.
Remembering your silence on this day,
ElevenEleven.

I wish you‘d laughed
dismissed it as a joke
The game of bayonets and poisoned smoke,
ElevenEleven

I wish you’d lain this wreath at the door
of Number 10 and said, ‘We die no more.
You sort it out, that’s what we pay you for.’
ElevenEleven

I wish you’d scorned their stupid sodden lies.
Lost children, far more brave than wise.
Your grand daughter’s a stranger. Still she cries.
ElevenEleven.