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begin to blacken as the glass
the bookshelves
full of memories
through her suffering
We're burning
around the front door
Does she feel it
She grabs the handle
the rising prickly heat
As your bile
As your tears
like she has sat too close
Perhaps you know the feeling
that comes rushing over you
At the first tiny bit of weight
ignoring the sizzling
to an electric radiator
when your home is compromised
or invaded or corrupted
far too long
of her own flesh
and her skin has begun to redden
Do you smell smoke
Do you smell
and blossom before the bars
the creeping ruin of a life
A stalking creature
that she can't quite place
she puts upon it
and pushing through
into thick beads of sweat
of unmaintaine
d electricals
of cheap insulation
Or does she taste it
of cutting corners
and missing fire alarms- and
the lancing needles of torment
In the back of her throat
the sick- queasy terror
unenforced safety regulations
Do you see it
she can feel the fastenings
to force it down- trying to free
that tells her she knows
creeping under the door
to your bedroom as you sleep
exactly what is coming
the burning coals of its eyes
regarding you in the
her unseen parents
