In My Room

The Daily Post

The air is hot, dense, and toxic,
I feel my lungs boiling then shriveling.
The lace curtains my grandmother made sparkle

and flash like fireflies, then
disintegrate.
A smoldering pillowcase
Scorches the bedspread as
the flames take over, buckling
the door and wrinkling the walls.

Everything is screaming.

 

Susan Marie Shuman

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