The houses turn into coal,
smoulder a little.
Odd sun rays still the juggedness
Some old bones tell, the doors
shut them inside at the ignition.
The trace DNA of politics,
on the black, in the ashes,
with the wind, adds a quick footnote –
‘Evolution can go both ways
at the same time.
We can be better outside and
bitter inside; we can grow and shrink.’
The flies bring in the buzz, fly away.
The news cool down in my cup and
its spill highlights the circle of the saucer.