Smithereens Press Chapbooks Left Behind by Colm Scully | Page 18

After the humans

Empty wine barrels and an empty press.
Soldiers’ guns sitting in their slots.
Cardboard boxes flapping in the wind.
Cars parked neatly in the tree shade to keep them cool.
School uniforms, pressed and hanging, await September.
Coiled up hoses in garden sheds, and fussily prepared dinners frozen in
fridges.
Guard dogs waiting to be unchained.
Children’s playgrounds remain empty.
The wind catches a swing.
The gentle creak of the chains can once again be heard
by animals, foraging in bins for the last of the processed food.
Hedgerows grow messy and uncut.
Gaudy yellow houses stand harmlessly in estates.
Satellite dishes automatically move to find a signal,
then become still once more.
The vaccine factory has a half completed order,
sitting in the warehouse yard partly wrapped.
The truck is waiting, its curtain drawn back.
Gargoyles stare down from church buttresses into vacant courtyards.
The posters for the pageant are made up.
They sit in rolls in the art director’s office.
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