The last thing we need

So

how many questions do you need?

we’ve asked the same ones for year after year

and when new answers present themselves

we retreat to the old ones, and lock the doors

Colston was a new answer, ripped

from history, consigned to mud and

no-one could say he didn’t

deserve it – but they tried

The crush of the barricades, the

wall of kettled reddening flesh, the

arms thrown up stiffly

plastic fascists, an identity for a day

that’s an old answer, a stock answer

the comfort of riots

the condolences of despair

the joy of deploring

Grievance is different to grief

a chance to be someone for

a passing moment, the

visceral instant, something in the blood

grief is a constant, it’s part

of who you are, it’s a

thousand daily reminders

the thing with notifications

the call and response

of diminishing returns the future shutting

down

for a lack of will to let it open up