One Week Later

The smoke has spread now and covers the whole city –
all the way from the still-smouldering hills
to my seaclose home.
I welcome the smoke, inhale it
taste what the televisionsradiopapers feed,
seek to share some tiny association
with those who have lost everything and more.

It’s not possible. I know that
and the page 5 piece from the survivor of another fire
makes sure I don’t forget it – her no longer numb-or-dumb anger
spills forth to damn me and all my neighbours.

Newspapers and radio
people the wasteland with details
of near-deaths and near-escapes.
It clears the air and any connection
I may, for a second, have imagined.

There is no link
I have my home, my family, my neighbours.
I close my eyes and breathe the smoke one last time
before the lifeheavy breeze carries it away

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