The House is on Fire – a poem by Sarah Cave

The House is on Fire & I’m searching
for an appropriate emoji
the hand of god
stroking my temples like a lost lover
like a mother with illusions, elisions,
delusions; a blue-black

dog running. Mother, mother;
where did you hide
the sunset? The weather cock
& the blue-black dog
quiet in the nave, on your knees

no sanctuary, no sanctuary
suture scars conceal the bird marks
tittering a muddle of vowels
& a dawn chorus of stars, drunken
elephants, pink orangutans;

skinny dipping, skin-stripped. Rebuild
the cathedral & then build

miniatures of the cathedral
while we wait still,

still, still singing on bridges until
the house is set on fire

Sarah Cave is a poet, academic and editor of Guillemot Press. She is currently working toward a practice-based poetry PhD in Prayerful Poetics. Her publications include like fragile clay (Guillemot Press, 2018), An Arbitrary Line (Broken Sleep Books, 2018) & Perseverance Valley (Knives, Forks and Spoons, September 2019).

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