Paroxysm

Paroxysm

 

Tower block collapses in the distance.
A lonely high-rise, condemned.

One side of a fifty-pence piece smiles.

You told me to be there at three,
But the roads were piled with the cars,
And the bodies:
Set off too late, and I could do
Nothing but stand.

Fires begin across the city.
Soon, the countryside burns, too.
The petrol that soaks the streets
Lights up in a line—

The sky is beautiful
And blue.

 

Published by

A. J. Sahnow

Author of The Groop, available on Amazon in print and Kindle. Also poet, writer of short stories, musical recording artist, Dungeon Master, erstwhile filmmaker. Graduate of Film Studies, BA Hons First Class. Twitter: https://twitter.com/SahnowScribbles | Music: https://nounverbnoun.bandcamp.com/ | Short films: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCFgGw0vS7jWVWnEoGtHJxKw

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