This is the Ministry of Defence
the stairs and walls are all that’s left
mortar holes let through the air
kids do the same thing everywhere;
they’ve sprayed graffiti in Arabic
and balanced sticks in human shit.
This is the ministry of remains
fizzy drinks cans, magazines
broken glass, a white jawbone
syringes, razors, a plastic spoon
human hair, a kitchen knife
and the ghost of a girl who runs and hides.
There’s the bus depot to the right
levelled like a building site
those are the children’s cries from the dark
these are the words written under the arch
scratched in the wall in biro pen:
This is how the world will end.