To live
through whispers in the other
room, where the cage walls’ vibrations
carry along the word of the rare
precious diamonds
hidden with the bats,
in the attic with no exit,
is quiet
besides
the tolls of the bells
hanging themselves
from the rusted fire sprinklers
with a noose that sinks
at the speed of continents
on their way to hell…
Take me.
Take me back
then, pre-renovation when
the bats came and went;
pre-fire, the fire where
the roof’s eyes wept
and I
was labelled a survivor;
before the fire took away
the oxygen in my attic…
Take me, someone,
take me back