We queued at the supermarket;

I saw that everyone was dead.

And yet they were still standing.

Out of defiance? Contempt?

Perhaps just out of habit.

 

We queued at the bakery,

And in the rows of cakes

We saw the faces of the fallen:

Unmoved, at last at peace.

 

We queued at the bus stop.

A passer-by called out to us

And we called back,

But no one was alive

To tell the tale.

 

We queued, bilingual,

For the book of condolences,

But no one could find their name

In either language.