Black Charred Chunks Poem by RIC BASTASA
Black Charred Chunks
it was the dance of their lifetime
it started at 6 p.m. and it did not
end at 5 a.m. the following day
the fire razed the dancing floor dwindled
the roof fell down
the doors did not open
they were all trapped
it was Sunday when the priest made the
sermon of a lifetime
there were no bodied inside those coffins
just black charred chunks, yes, just black charred chunks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 9:20:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
