Not Now

An accident.
Vicious and violent,
then all quiet.
Quite a few lives lost.

The firemen find nothing
but ash after the fighting flames
submit and surrender.
The fights of flames.
The flames of fights.

Nothing to bury but tears.
The grey grieve around the graves
sobbing on their
sleeves
as the leaves fall
down onto the ground.

This poem was written in response to Andrew Joron’s book, Sound Mirror.

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