From MEWL HOUSE by M Sarki:
Mewl
House in September
It
was the beauty of
the
date, the clearness
of
the morning’s
possibility
that
destroyed
our well-
being.
Imagine a fiery
bird
hanging from a
word.
And a
subjugated
sun and the
plumes
that made
history.
The largeness
of
dread, of humanity
scrambling,
covered
with
dust and the
violence
of futility.
Those
were anxious
moments
before the
sledge and blade. The
polemical sense of
innocence and
provocation. And the
cloud
of horror in
the
order to go about
our
day.