Always Burning

When people say
We lost everything in the fire
I want that for us

Not the loss of life;
Nor the sacred memories now saved in charred skies for anyone with access —
But the molten plastic, the remains of poly knits, the scorched knick knacks

From beyond the grave of a 1930's soldier's dwellings
From beyond the last resting place of syphilitic complications
From beyond the grave of coal stored one winter at a time

I want for us what I want for them
A cleaner starting
Let's start cleaning

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