Treasure Island

Diana Rosser


No place to hide


Splintered fragments shatter
cohesive thought
searching through the
ratter, tat, tat, to
no understanding.

He knew

Someone, somewhere
saw the unravelling
the brilliance dissipating
fragmenting, splintering.

Someone, somewhere
shouted, screamed, pleaded
to help him.

Others talked, pushing paper and ideas
precious time slipping through
inaction and indecision

whilst pictures built
and voices came louder, louder, louder
urging the stock piling, the building, the buying
until the ratter, tat, tat

burst through the remnants of ordinary lives
spraying misery over broken remains
bleeding out into debates
that rage through

precious time slipping

Submitted: Tuesday, August 28, 2012

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