A Bonfire

This is one from the archives, written in 1995. I’ve never been entirely satisfied with it as it’s a bit too tell not show. Here’s the original, the next post has the revised version.

Flames lap-up the letters
As I feed them in,
One by one, words crumbling.

I watch them lick the photograph,
Hers, taken that last day
Before I caught the train,

Bubbles and hiss, it flakes,
Burns a part of me off.
I can’t find it later

When I rake over the still warm ash,
Blacker than her hair,
Smouldering into the suburban sky

Above the greenhouses,
Mown lawns and
Neatly pruned shrubberies.

Memories compressed into
A few shovelfuls of soot,
Smoke in my clothes.

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