sirens whine past the building where
i try to keep you occupied while your parents
shuffle off to work and you
wait for the bus.
the sirens whine higher and louder as they pass and
one boy yells,
they’re coming for us, put your hands up! and
another boy giggles and complies.
don’t put your hands up, you say with a grin;
this is how you deal with them.
you put your hands together in front of you like a pistol,
raise them up and point towards the window.
i know you’re just playing around but still
you shoot and the bullets ricochet into my heart because
how can i tell you to lower your weapon, to
surrender to a world like this?