Naked Girl, Naked Flame.

The empty street lay haunted

With wind in branches and bushes

Rustling leaves,

Quaking windows.

Silently.

 

The ground lay damp

Puddles of rainbow water

Ripple gently in the rain

And collect as if on the feathers of a dead duck.

 

The houses stand pristine,

Proud and perfect.

Too perfect, deathly so,

A perfect to drive man away.

Forever.

 

Isolated lay the road.

Cut off from all life,

But for a boy.

And for a girl.

 

The boy may be 80.

 

The girl may be 6.

 

She lay face down in a cloud of rainbow.

A rain cloud.

A puddle.

 

Breathing, but only just,

As the frantic bubbles subside

To a gentle pitter-patter of blue moons.

 

They are playing games.

Cops and robbers.

She is the robber, chained, face to the floor.

He is the cop, onion eyed above his prey.

 

He hobbles back as the bubbles cease,

And leans upon his marble stick.

He lights a woodbine

And flicks the match

Into the pot of gold.

 

She writhes then turns,

Face into the fire.

Naked.

Naked girl, naked flame.

 

No sound escapes

But a contortion occurs.

 

Surviving only seconds,

The unconscious spasms perish.

 

The boy walks away

Towards the corner of the empty street,

Before turning

And beckoning the girl.

 

She is having her bow tied.

 

First day of school.

 

Granddad promised to walk her,

Her little treat,

His big treat.

 

As the part beneath the willow,

He whispers ‘we shall always be’

Before taking out a woodbine

And sucking in his cancer.

 

He was the cannibal of her heart,

He felt it pump once too often.

He was the cannibal of her love,

He tasted her lips every day.