Remote Control
The radio says that the boy dressed to kill
is fourteen years old.
Later I see him, a round-headed child,
looking out at me from my TV.
He is small for his age, his arms are raised,
his waist encircled with pockets of death.
But no one dies
he cuts off the path to paradise
with scissors delivered by robot,
rather like the remote control car
he once wanted.
Chrissie Williams, March 2004