on a choppy sea

The roof is on fire

The fire spreads fast

It races down the eaves and leaves there ash

My heart it beasts faster but I’m fast asleep

I am dreaming of your lips stick-ing to me.

There’s a panic down the hall

Tiny foot steps creep

Then a scream for my name through the smoke

now deep

Bodies moving in a coil, sweaty necks skin breaks

There’s a river by the garden but he’s much too late

The roof caught on fire at a quarter past eight

Only seven minutes later and this duvet smells baked

Mon corps une baguette

Copyright © Portis Wasp

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