Fear of an idea
Almost intangible
Until it bursts
Fully formed from the head
And flowers to fists
Shouting streets full of strangers
That tumble, concluding
The unwritten, read
Reacting, unwitting
To pub propaganda
More salt in the wound
With each bucket of blood
Until rivalry forms
Lines appear, out of nowhere
Uncrossable gulf
No-man’s-land to divide
We’re in it to win
But we fall and lie broken
And understand nothing
While clutching our pride
Katherine Shirley 