Your Sister Died In The Fire
Your Sister Died In The Fire
by DIY Danna
Your sister died in the fire.
That winter was unreasonably
warmer and drier in Texas,
reaching record highs and a low
chance to rain relief from your heaven.
That hot day in February
the sky was milky blue in your atmosphere
but a creeping gray in her hair,
billowy smoke signals in a furnace
and swan song notes touch devil throats.
She died alone in the room that day—
not from the trial by vigilante flames
but by smoke inhalation from your Holy See.
The denomination of domination doesn’t matter
as your sister’s body burns in the blaze.
She’s a happy nobody, happy nowhere now,
but you weep because you think she’s in hell.
No—she’s perched on a cliff in Ireland,
writing another cliffhanging chapter
and laughing her last breath away.
Having been a victim (by association) of religious death, I connected with the mine&yours declarations throughout the poem. I especially liked the lyrical lilt of “swan song notes”. It touched my throat too, you see.