Widow's Wall

There’s a place in our town where the children won’t play
At Widow’s Wall.

The car lights don’t show you what’s there in the night
They don’t allow you to steal a glimpse.

The only way to see it’s to wander around all night
Until you’re accustomed to the dark
Waiting until the sun is about to rise
Until the land is locked in sleep

Make the long walk
Up the high street, past the peeling billboards, the closed shops, the empty schools, the quiet houses, the still cars, the sleeping dogs and cats, and the silent birds

And look for the tiny silver crack
Press your ear up close, on tiptoes, breath held until you hear your heart beating in your chest

Listen long enough, and the second before dawn
You will hear her gently sobbing for the husband that she lost.