Faces at the window by Cath Campbell

Fire, fuego, nuria, feu, feuer, tine, aile, aga, ina.
fire. fire rife. fire innocent. its nature to burn.
fire unblemished, pure, ran up the sides,
as it should with so much to consume.

It had no other purpose. fire in the belly.
it jumped to us. demanding, screaming, justice.
millions in coffers. them saving for a rainy day.
they curbed, snipped, and cut, and fire waited.

Rich bastards don’t see us. think somehow
we are monkeys, cats, dogs, birds, snakes.
we can swing, jump, fly, slither out of windows.
that we are asbestos. that it would never happen.

We do not exist. their world so much more visceral.
it doesn’t matter to them, only to us, those lives.
those faces framed, hoping for one more breath.
those small creations in the fiery tower, gone.

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