And in the rubble

There came a great groaning

a sound from a creaking ship

my face suddenly awash in warmth

as the breath of hell

came forth rustling my hair

full of sulfur

from under the picture frame I had picked up

and like Dante’s inferno, the hole underneath

glowed red in angry defiance

stating its’ claim to those that it had taken

 

In the picture

a fine mahogany frame

unblemished by its fall

or the flames

in the picture

a family of four stood   stand?

smiling at the camera

frozen in color

frozen in time

I notice that not all smiled

a defiant teenage boy looked away

from the camera

proclaiming his independence

while his father’s hand

rested gently, lovingly upon the boy’s shoulder

as the man’s face seemed to say

‘In time my son, your rebellion will quiet

and you will eventually agree

thinking to yourself

everything my parents said was right’

 

I look down at my hands

shredded through the gloves

no match for this creature

its’

teeth of glass

body of stone

hair of wires

breath of fires

 

A rag doll lay   lies?

nearby, red-string hair

cloth face

still smiling in this madness

and a card attached

‘Congratulations’

For what I wondered

A new job?

A new baby?

That big promotion?

Now all that is left

a rag doll and my ragged hands

trembling and shaking

my bloodied parts

mixing with this dusty doll

smiling, smiling, smiling

 

It is night now

and by searchlight

and flashlight

still we tease this giant beast

our dogs range over its body

searching

our hearts pouring out over its body

searching

and all I can find

all I can find

are trinkets and

memories and souvenirs

 

lastly

I find a name badge

from the NYFD

a friend

no, that would be a stretch

but I knew this man

and he knew me

now he lay in the belly

it could have been me O’lord   Oh lord? Oh Lord? (I don’t know, but it looks a bit funny)

this man had a family

I have none

it should have been me O’lord

this man had a family

I have none

why wasn’t it me O’lord

 

I sit upon its spine

a broken piece of wall

and now watch the sun rise

pink and merciful and warm

my hands bleeding from the glass

my back broken and bruised from the falls

my gums bleeding from the dust

my eyes caked with mud from my tears

 

And in the rubble

lost in the fog of its’ breath

the beast breathes on

--william paris