I mean of course challenge. This week? A piece of music called Threnody to the victims of Hiroshima - 10 minutes long - during which time we had to write, and now post up the cheery result.
Sharp glints - incessant cries, a thousand gulls,
a heaving trainstation left behind,
out in country villages - sirens carried on the wind
She's locked in her room, can hear the frantic panting,
pedals outside the door,
and she fights the urge to itch, till a peace descends,
gazes out the window, wasteland brown and grey
a car approaches, we see a calm determined driver,
she sees him too and sits again on the white chair,
facing into the dresser, wants to climb into the mirror world -
looks quieter, warmer, safer than her own.
His car glides into the yard but when he steps out
he finds a hundred of them watching his every move,
little mice with tiny white gloved pointing paws
she brushes her hair upstairs, her hair floats feathery
straight as blades in cool, bright light.
he doesn't move until the head mouse does, and
taking his cue proceeds through the scrambled clean path,
they mooch and move, split and reassemble,
leading him inwards, inwards, rearranging, running, pushing him, hurrying him
before it's too late,
he sees the rest of the family, all are frozen in fear of him, and what he might or mightn't say
hearts beat loud in all their chests,
the mice run on,
a clatter and she gets up,
opens her bedroom door,
starts to descend,
the kids are quiet,
mice fade into dust, figments that they are,
"Could I please see your television license?"