Seek shelter when the sirens start

the BBC intones, as I worry

my iron-on patches, watch

childhood evaporate, ice blue

in the late-night news glare.

From the kitchen window

I picture a mushroom cloud

above the local church spire

doorstep milk bottles melting

in the white heat of impact

while Dad props up the bar

at the Red Lion, carpet sticky

from decades of spilled pints

& broken promises. After school

we lie down dead in the street

with crowds demanding peace.

I’m tired of protesting nuclear war

while indifference is on display

in Woolworths’ windows, cut-price

deals for 99p. Rather be home

watching Dynasty, dreaming

of American sunshine, feathered  

blond hair. I feel the acid burn

of Mum’s rebuke, unspeakable things

happen every day, an upturned pram

a toxic river. She’ll hold my hand,

explain Dad’s leaving again. I sit silent

as the sky, waiting for dust to settle.