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My writing, Uncategorized

Christchurch

I walked the cordon
stared into the gray
of yawning empty-mouthed houses leaning over the street
spilling broken teeth

The road is bowed and split open like a wound

Someone’s front porch was swallowed, their
washing still pegged on the clothesline and in
the living room the carpet is wet

A church has lost its walls and is standing on corner pillars like an awkward animal
bending its face to the broken path of its own brick facade

A stop sign is buried up to the stop sign
black eyes watch where windows used to be

Beyond the cordon the only movement
is emergency tape swaying
and all is quiet
quiet.

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About writehandedgirl

Sarah is a writer who is passionate about social justice, feminism, politics, and cats. She is a columnist and poet and currently lives in Nelson. You can follow Sarah on Twitter (@writehandedgirl) or read more of her writing at writehanded.org

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