They told us to look away
from the flames, to ignore fizzing silver,
mandarin green waxing
our lashes. We didn’t.
We fought with explosion debris,
unfurled our tongues to the sky,
handfuls of crimson ash,
collarbones smeared.
The urge to write, to sweep away dirt,
with slick little fingers.
To message the dead and the living.
Sledging through drifts. Laughing.
They hosed down lamp posts,
scooped out sodden mud, viscera
from gutters. Scrubbed faces raw.
We began to turn away.
Shimmering dust, whenever a hand
stretched out to ruffle our heads.
Comments
LawOfTheOne | April 23, 2008 - 18:24
Great piece. Surreal but with human touches aswell.
Really enjoyed it.
Doeslittle | May 9, 2008 - 17:21
I'm not sure if this is something that's missing exactly, but the 'raiding the orchard for apples' lines threw me a bit because even though they were drawn in as 'charred' it seemed to shift the imagery too dramatically for me away from the 'glitter factory' (for me...). Also thought 'coloured dandruff' didn't work too well as a phrase. (Again, that could just be me). Other than these small points I think it's excellent. I'm not sure it's missing anything exactly. I loved the idea of it and the imagery.