A House On Fire


Straddling your lost soul
which I never meant to meet
It was not on my list of things 
to get done
before I die
But I did and it was all blue
dressed in corduroy
with a militant jacket
for that feminine effect
and some would say
we belong on the water
lit up in flames 
like corks afloat
I’m not to answer sordid questions
of beauty and birth
only those that lie straddling
such mighty legs
atop a mighty soul
like an old forgotten bed mattress
lying in dust
on the floor of an empty house
one that will be pulled and pushed
and will sway
like a cork atop a wave
and an emotionless man
with a song on his lips
and the scent of tea and biscuits
will pass as he sings a story
as he pulls and he pushes
like a house that is on fire
that he can not save

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