The sea burst
into flames
turning up at the edges
waves crinkled & shrank
into
themselves
if only she
had known
that this was to be
her last week on earth
she would have
laughed
thought of it as a weird title
for a bad book
or the title of
a Dónall Dempsey poem.
The bright green forest
burnt to a crisp.
The sunset
(ironically)
catching fire
glorious with colour.
Her last week on earth
had been uneventful
not even meriting
a diary entry
except for Thursday’s
note to self:
“Sean has got to go! ”
The flames snickering
licking everything
with their fierce little
orange and yellow tongues
the heart attack
so sudden
she couldn’t see it
coming
the paint on the tip of the brush
looking blindly for the picture
perched upon
an easel
but that little touch
of cerulean
never getting there
the knocked over
candle
painting the room
in lurid colour
hungry for
the seascape
(she had taken
great pains with it)
angry at its
incompleteness
the fiery tongues
attacking the paint
like a hell-fire preacher
or an ignorant art critic
burning both sea & sky
forest & figure
at the left hand foreground
of the canvas
the fire greedily eating
the hastily painted figure
the fire now
eagerly eating her hair
like
candyfloss.
A passing man
& his dog
calling the fire brigade
beneath a crescent moon
as she slept
in the arms of Death
deep in the heart
of the fire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
ooooh this is sinister, beautiful but evil.....scarey Ruthie: ~O