• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 12
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The Attic Pyre

Let it in.

Let in the light.
Let in everything, please...

Before the fire I could see
over the horizon to St. Ives,
the farm was as clear as ice.

Now the daylight pricks my conscience,
sitting in this armchair. Why did I do it?
- light a cigarette in my sepia hand,
when too tired to put it out?