Thursday, 15 December 2011

Dying Ember

Dear dad,
Fire burns inside of us
Pale, limpid, or scorching red
And mummy was the crimson sunset
Because she would not listen
Because you
Because you would not listen to the bird and her word
It descended upon a mansion
Bathing hell
And burned, treasured memories
Troves of forgotten lore, carnality gone
Selfish, misbegotten waif in lair...
Had it not been for an argument
Had it not been
Had it not been a day in December
A young man from a bar with a car and an ember
I would not be, I would not have been as I am
I would not be...