Following the flag

Shut blinds conceal

A coalition of wailing.
The dead energy used
To put a broken face on straight.

The journey from

Bungalow to Kirk

Is a hideous reversal

Of their wedding day.
This time:

She walks down that aisle alone,

Through a stifled congregation

Of everyone that knew them,

Struck again and again

By the voracious sympathy

On each neighbour's face -

Making it real like every nail

In the decorated coffin

Which left no space for her,

At the very altar

Where she once said
In reverent wonder:

 'I do.'