I tried hard
not to hear forced
gasps and stop-start
slaps of feet on floorboards
upstairs.

I just sat
stirring Shreddies
beneath the milk
like submarines.

        ‘The hits keep coming’,
the man on the radio said,
as if he knew.
And a neighbour took me to school again.

I don’t know why the ambulance came,
details forever submerged in waters
deep and murky.
At least he was gone for a while.