she offered herself as a human shield
the policewoman, blonde and brave
- though it was hard to believe
the sparks would not simply
plunge into her high-vis jacket
and rapidly melt gaping holes in it.
sparks -
fireflies hungry,
angry,
vicious -
blast from the fires,
rockets of hot, bright jets
unexpected,
whipped up by wind,
rebellious when dowsed
plumes of thick, acrid smoke
fill the night air and our eyes,
noses, lungs.
Smoke inhalation
fights with burning
as cause of death
i see hair catch light
faces lit with astonishment
then fear
as sparks melt hats and gloves
then lick their way over coats and scarves
Wicker Man, Guy Fawkes, now me.
I am alight,
i burn, i melt,
i scream
but my throat is a ball of fire
i scrabble to tear off my clothes
but my hands are dry bones
which clatter to the cobbled street
i stomp my feet
to get attention
but find there are
no boots, no feet, no legs,
just bones,
dry, barbecued bones.
And then,
and then
you pulled me
to safety
and i began
to reassemble.
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