GASOLINE

I saw you Mother
Burning down the house
Thick black air
Collecting on the white

Wind was picking up
Little devils blew
The giant's hands were tied
Wrangled by the two

Your perfume, I can smell it
Through stench of burning life
Sweet, sweet, sweet
No one smells like the arsonist

Careless with her match heads
Unknowing her gasoline
Feet too large for gauging
They stumble into manslaughter

I'll wash the sheets now Mother
I'll make them white again
Sleep, sleep, sleep
I've tucked the dying in
The wind has slowed to gentle

                       ‘03