The steel tsunamis will froth back upwards
And become solid again.
The planes will be pulled out like javelins
And slide backwards, swallowing their vapour trails.

Tomorrow, everyone will be fine.

Tomorrow, everyone who died will come home.
They will sit again at the tables of home
And rejoin life’s fellowship, its snapshots
And picnics.

Tomorrow, all will be well.

It will be as if it all never happened.
Everyone will sleep as babies do under mobiles,
Untroubled by strange sounds, of aero engines
Flying too low and shadows cast over the streets.

Tomorrow, mobile phones will just be toys again.