Desert

Desert (The Great Fire of London 1666) 9/2

There’s that image of St. Paul’s during the Blitz
shrouded in smoke its dome clear and white and not falling

Not running lead through the streets like lava
it’s stones not booming through Ludgate as projectiles

St. Paul’s has burned down in 962 in 1087 in 1666
and each time it has taken London with it

Leaving a cinder smoldering along the banks of the Thames
that acrid smell of blown out things and death

Imagine standing outside the city walls watching it all burn
the flames sending the country into orange

An ocean of shifting black sand and searing air
latching to your lungs pulling at them like worry beads

Holy this burning and restarting
English in its simplicity