LOSS | MEMORY | FIRE | RECOVERY | POETRY

Five Minutes

A poem

Image by Author

Burned to the ground in five minutes,
Thank God we're safe.
It stinks so bad — smoke, ash, stagnant mud,
Thank God we weren’t home.

Subway tile? Bath night was hilarious with the girls in the tiny tub,
Thank God we never remodeled.

OMG, where did the jacaranda stand?
Gramps hung his underwear on the branches to air ’em out.
Neighbors called 911,
Thirty stitches when Heather fell off the swing.
Amanda’s garden wedding,
Thank God they weren’t visiting.

My writer’s desk crushed your piano when the roof caved in,
All of your wonderfully crafted stories,
All of your beautiful music afloat,
Thank God for the Cloud.

What’s all this twisted metal stuff?
Appliances, tools, furniture, silverware — your grandma’s gold locket,
my dad’s tenor sax — evaporated.
Shit!
Thank God we kept our papers in a safe deposit box.