that it would burn would burn would burn
but all I thought was how it had
burnt the walls and roads and rice
till it was all ash
and gone away in the wind.
How I hated this house of stone
that stood so stubbornly
No windows or I too
could have drifted away in the breeze
No windows or I too
could have seen all was left
was me
But I couldn't see and I didn't think
that there was anything left
for the bright red fingers to choke to ash
the sticky grey ash comes under the door
and makes you sneeze and snarl
What a frightful thing you are
if I had anything left of fear.
So I took the silver strand
when you were deeply drunkly dead
and I stained the silver red
and I sliced off your roaring head
burn burn burn
how it burns
and when all the nights are gone
I will stay awake remembering
how you burnt and screamed
The door came undone
and I chose to run
all bare feet and air
against the layers and layers of ash
through the piles and pile of debris
and you burnt you burned you rolled
burning after me
rolling with your open face all heat and flame
and I suddenly remembered there was no one who
could have remembered your name
No one could calm you could bind you
you were a thing undone
and it was I with my silver strand
I with my red stained hand
who had opened the door
The way was becoming green
and then grey again with you behind me
and I ran I ran I ran
and the people came from their doors
their locked doors their strong doors
and they wept they wept they wept
and I ran
