Posted by: David Harley | July 6, 2013

Burn Out

At the close
of a vacuous December Saturday
when the fog was replete
with invisible revellers
and the sky
a close-grained fluorescent orange
it seemed time after all
to celebrate the passing of Guy Fawkes

So
with the aid of cheap claw-hammer
and a desperate strength of purpose
she wrecked her furniture
reassembling it into a heap
in the centre of the sitting room

As the fire took hold
as her children screamed

As the neighbours hammered
and the sirens grew more intimate

The make-up blistered and overran
the impassivity of her face.

 

Published in Vertical Images 3, 1988. Copyright David Harley, 1988.

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