Day 9, poem 9
everyone's asleep here
everyone except me
i can hear my family's
in the shuttered
blue walled room
the sound of the bottle smashers
is a lullaby
the tarmac melts on the pavements
This is the heat that kills old people
birds drop from the sky
I have a shower and I need another
as I towel myself dry.
John Bleasdale is a writer. His work has appeared in The Guardian, The Independent, Il Manifesto, as well as CineVue.Com and theStudioExec.com. He has also written a number of plays, screenplays and novels.