A contemporary poem about the names the fire kept, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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The fire kept our names after the wind left. Not lovingly; it has no such language. It held them in the blackened beams, letters without a mouth to repeat them. I stood among the ruins and listened. Memory was the last thing burning.
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A dark poem of bathroom, can't, and foresee, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
A dark poem of moments, cherished, and now, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
A dark poem of meridian, passes, and sun, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
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