Friday, 25 April 2014

Part XXV

Behind the bricked up yard
You could hear two dogs yapping
For hours and hours
Until their voices went,

Almost like they were trying to
Direct the police then the ambulances 
To where the crash happened,

Composing imaginary preludes
To piano solos
Using their barking
Skittled with silver 
Across the dry, red hot air 

Breathing like ghosts 
Frantically trying to get across
The top of the wall
To help out in the carnage
That burned throughout that night. 

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