Match Sticks

The limousines are burning, little sister.
See smoke rise against skyscraper,
Dulling shiny black metal and tinted glass.

Flames rise from underneath
Maws shaped from the Earth's
Once living bones.
Once, these gleaming, fishlike cars
Were alive,
Before they were spat from
Factories, that was not a birth, but a death,
Carved out of soil and mountains,
Cut from the flesh of beasts crowded into
Windowless, grating buildings.


Fire is contagious, little one,
Having ignited my imagination,
I hope that soon
They will collapse into dust.