Nice – Bastille Day 2016
The night we nearly didn’t have a son
we held each in the other’s arms
as lovers will.
She wept. I, being more robust
and made of sterner stuff,
merely bridled my feminine side
and quivered an unruly upper lip.
We both died a little
and learnt a little guilty gratitude,
using the carnage all around
as stepping-stones across
the conscience-stricken shoreline
© D. Crann 2016