The Week In Fire
By ivoryfishbone
- 1538 reads
First, rolled fast between two hands
twisted on itself and settled in the grate
the Sports section, unread.
There's pleasure in touching a match
to the serrated edge, thinking
fire eats footballers, rolls up their knee socks
licks along their shorts. They go up well
man made, their muscles and their hairstyles
turned to ash. The next day Work, the articles
on management, the adverts for the jobs -
they make a cosy bed for kindling and coal.
Then Travel. We can't afford to go away,
even on a shoestring to a family hotel or
to resorts where we can zoom across the rims
of waves on water motorbikes. No. We stay at home
in front of the fire, reading the Review
and dreaming of our own bestsellers making it
to teeter on the top of lists that burn last.
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Comments
I like this very much, it
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Not poverty of thought then!
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like this -and im a footy
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Oh yes, a great poem. Agree
rosa
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