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Leaving Christmas
I left a water bowl out for the cat.
Stupid cat wouldn’t come when I called
as I squinted into smoke
and lung-crushing heat
the backyard blanketing in ash.
All along the street
sirens scratched at our ears
soot in our throats
as we drove through
flying embers and fear
Further on, the old man from number nine
stumbling with buckets
splashing kerbside
heart of lead
waved us on crankily
when we slowed down to help
pieces of the past
fluttering like flippant thoughts
above his head.
While Sarah wailed snot bubbles
of loss for Christmas toys
my fingernails stabbed palms
around the wheel
temple pulsed
hysteria twitched
and every nerve crackled
with the need for flight.
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