Wednesday, 5 December 2012


She sent her sons out every day -
easier than trying to stop them.
She washed the dirt and bloodstains out
whenever the water was let through.
Marooned indoors,
each hour punctured with
flares and shockwaves,
her blood-pressure rocketed
with each crash and tremor.
And then, the stuttering television
spurting into life,
across the world, that green spreading.
"We know. We were always here
and now you are here too."
Tomorrow's bloodstains will wash out,
bandages will be discarded
and the sky shocked to stillness.

© Pat Jourdan

Pat Jourdan has five collections of poetry, two short story collections and two novels. Her latest novel is 'A Small Inheritance.' Her website is: and her blog: