The first police report came in on the hour
11.00
After the last post had been delivered
After the postal worker had finished his shift

11.00
A tangle of events impossible to unweave
Random dispatches from panicked voices
On telephones, whispered information

The sound of gunfire twisted into events
11.00
A fearful wave of social media messages
Across a hushed landscape of dread

11.00
The hour that we lost
The slaughter of the sweet-hearts
Surrounded by cards and flowers