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