Everything showed.
Breath pocked the air.
Streets curled like matchsticks
Caught in their own flare.
And the dog scuffed stone with me — noticing,
In the transparent avenue, a crack:
A wall of coats and handbags
Trailing a casket, shiningly black.
And I leant to mourn, to decry the day,
To quieten my face and my stride.
But I held life by the leash — and it tugged.
It tugged, so I flew by.
