The sound of stomping outside,
where is everybody? what’s happening?
a steady marching sound, why?
A woman crawls out of the TV,
she chases me into the kitchen,
under the table I try to hide,
“What have you done with my mum?”
She laughs, no one else is in the house.
The ground is shaking, thudding,
they’re still marching, why?
Slate grey, giants of stone, a mile high,
an army in our garden, but why?
Left, right… left, right, left!
One of them reaches down,
ripping the roof away and staring in,
breaking rank for a moment
to look me in the eye.