Posted by: John Looker | 8 April, 2013

THE TRAP

TRIBAL LOYALTIES

3. The Trap

He wishes now that he hadn’t
opened the door, drifting
pale as the morning mist  

after a difficult night,
but there was Youth, brimming
with health, offering
to mend that roof.

Within an hour most of the tiles
had gone. Had to be done,
they said, they needed replacing.

But he couldn’t see,
and he wasn’t sure,
and the cost had risen higher
than the elms outside.

Cash, they say. Right now
or they can’t complete the work.
Far off, the sound of a siren

(is it police?) but look:
he’s weary, weary, as they
follow him into the kitchen
where he’s fled.

They will drive him
straight to the bank
in their waiting van. 

© John Stevens 2013

This is the last of three complementary poems – except for a 7-line afterword, “See How They Run”, which I’m about to post separately.

The three poems are best read together and I have turned off  ’Comments’ until the end – that’s to say with the afterword that’s coming up.

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