burning house
she lives in a
burning house
every storm
takes a tile from the roof
it is cold her
teeth are chattering
outside someone
makes up new traffic regulations
an old man goes
on cycling
wrapped in
newspapers under his clothing
she goes
outside with basket of washing
black sheets
black blankets black pillowcase
she sees the
fields burning too
it makes no
sense to be outside
better to go
back to the walls
the dancing
flames on his portrait
post drops
unasked for through the door
crackling fails
to reach the mat
her cat jumps
up onto her lap
with a plantlike
desire to be stroked
she pours more
meths over the photo albums
brushes ash
from her specs and reads
and reads and
reads
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