I want to watch a house burn down someday.
A mansion void of living beings,
yet full to the brim with memories
that make it a treasured home.
I want to watch the steel-grey smoke
skim through pages of every book,
each photo album and diary,
the refrigerator’s sticky notes
that were long since lost in the white noise.
I want to watch curtains burn
like they blew too close to the setting sun
last evening before the stars fell out of the sky
pitter-pattering onto the red roof tiles
like a racing heartbeat.
I want to watch the fire breathe:
the flames inhale the vacuum
left by lullabies of many mothers
through centuries of sleepless nights,
then exhale in crackling embers.
I want to watch the window glass
shatter like hope, jagged
like impatient slips of tongue
as they lie like fireproof diamonds
on the skeletoned floor.
I want to watch the doors
as they stop holding their breath
only because the crackling
infectious laughter of the flames
pierced through their lungs.
Let the wallpaper come back to life:
fleur de lis finally sway in the wind,
buds that bloom crimson, then fall
like plucked camelia petals
that scatter into the sky.
Let the bookshelves light up the ceiling
let every page come alive
to tell its tale in blue-gold-crimson shadowplay,
then fade away like daylight at dusk,
Let kitchens burn warmer than any hot
delicacy, stewed with hope, baked with love,
swallowed with well-meaning
indifference;
forgiveness that forever waited
beside the ice cream in the freezer
now burns, dancing over the tips of the flames
in a lovely uncanny ballet.
Let the staircase burn, let it relax
onto the floor, free from its eternal purgatory.
Let it all burn down like a house of cards,
and while the charred ground glows with embers
like a dragon curled up around its treasure,
let’s wait in silence until the great gods of history
come by and swallow down all that is left
in a single mouthful.
-T. E. Pyrus