Orphans

Smash! Peals of lamplight
daze the orphans
crouching in doorways,
riffle their mothy eyes
and fall diagonal
in loping amber bars.
They don't see,
don't scurry or steal away,
just nod on the stoop,
swivelling in the beam
of the dread archangel,
hollow knocking marrow,
writhing pinned down,
chins spotted with dribble.

Darkness whales in,
fever spikes visions
in the tunnel, eyes
rolled like marbles
skitter through dream,
flap and mumble
in rags. Children,
keening in night,
overhung by ghosts,
eyes strained shut,
burst inwards
gushing colour,
filmy ectoplasm, oil
quick with saline odour,
neural discharge, nightmare
juices; left the dry ache
of a dog kicked in the ribs.

Spin into the corner,
lost boys. The wick
flares and drowns,
the pornographic universe
blinks out, ashamed,
teeters in the lurid hush
for a second then spills
across the tiles, bells
and buttons, clowns
and bears and sheiks
jingle beggarly, inflate
then subside like
bouncy castles moaning,
as ambulances clatter
through every county;
the spastic world
a music box that spilt
it rusted guts.

Our children open
their slick black eyes
and make fire among
the bruised, monochrome
husks of empty houses,
and sing.