Fire
Cinders spark and crack,
and flames wriggle like snakes,
fleeing a pit of roast-en ash,
through wooden crates and molten wheel,
gasoline explodes and hells release,
of red hot smut, engulfs with blackest soot,
tectonic shift within the flame,
brings blazing, tower crashing down,
impacting like King Kong,
as tragic as the greatest wrong,
scattered silhouettes of folk,
scramble to and fro and dance and try,
to intervene and drown the primal scream.
Copyright © David Byrne | Year Posted 2010
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