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After the Match, The Day the City Went Silent
No one flipped a table in the pub,
no bottles shattered in the streets
No sirens wailed, no flares were lit
nothing burned but the last of daylight
No one danced, no one climbed a lamppost,
no voices cracked with song or rage.
City streets, not a river of bodies,
did not ripple with triumph
Instead, a silence laced with something heavy
hung between the bricks and roads.
Men with hands in pockets walked home slower
kicking stones that didn't deserve it
And though nothing happened, it happened everywhere,
the weight of absence pressing soft.
No parade, no riot, no great unraveling
Only the quiet of what could have been.
Photo above: Noah Kitayama, 11th
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