Sirens, Smoke and Scarves – A Poem

I was walkingAF10_r2059_01

along the sidewalk.

There was a

sound of sirens

in the air

and the third

fire truck I

had seen z       o          o          m         e          d

by me. A

woman I didn’t

know stopped in

front of me.

What do you think is going on?

I had no idea.

That’s the sixth one I’ve seen. I saw three more earlier.

There must be something terrible happening.

We watched as

even more of

them arrived, their

lights flashing in

the air like

clouds filled with

lightning. The woman

pointed to one

of the bright

red engines. It

looked like a

slash of blood

on the pavement.

That must be the fire marshal. What do you think he’s doing with that canister?

I don’t-

My words were

cut off when

the earth shook

around us and

the air filled

with screaming. People

started to fall

from far up,

hitting the ground

as if they

were embracing it.

One girl landed

by my feet,

hitting the ground

with a sickening

splat. The woman

beside me began

crying. The girl

was still alive,

breathing with a

wet hollow sound.

Where’s the smoke?

One boy cried.

Where’s the fucking fire?

I kneeled down

beside the girl

and held her.

I wanted her

last moment to

be one of

kindness. She turned

her eyes towards

mine and they

were glassy with

pain. She reached

out one hand

to my scarf,

smearing it’s red

and gold colours

with blood She

spoke so softly.

Harry Potter?

She said. I

could only nod.

I like your scarf.

She said. Then

she closed her

eyes as the world

came apart around

all of us

and the air

began to fill

with fog like

smoke until I

could no longer

see the girl.

She held on

to my scarf

though, and refused

to let go.

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: