The Work of Charlene Beecroft


The Fire

A fly
on a wall listens
to the burnt silence.
Smoke curls and eludes fits of wind
the bodies lie, so calm and untroubled
so different than before.

The fly
on the wall looks,
sees the carcass of his home
dismal black and violent grey.
The stainless white sky smiles
and mocks the joyless scene

The fly
on the seared wall smells
the ashy, scorched breeze sent
from the forest.
The smothering odors of burnt flesh and
broiled wood repulst the fly sending him

drunkenly away to find a new home.