House Of Fire

Looking out of the burning panes of an upstairs window,

My burning eyes made out a patch of square light

stretched out tight

In the thick, blinding dark, caught in a net

Of my ridiculously long hair.

(The hair was burning, yes, in lurid red flames, each strand like a long witchy finger.)

You were there too, blackened by

smoke,

Your still immaculate suit smudged with soot,

Covered in the stench of burning

IKEA chairs.

Drowning in a vast ocean of fire,

your face, your eyes, your tongue all ablaze,

We spoke of a future already past,

Already dead, the fire already spread,

You and I locked forever in an

Always burning house.