NaPo 09 ~ The Long Draft

The Long Draft

Did you hear
how they built
a chimney
that reached up
to prick the shawl
of the sky, high
like the flight
of rockets, geese
and heroes.
They wanted
to shout at
God, you see,
make sure He
heard their praise.
On each brick,
a signature
penned by a
penitent
keen to book
a cushion stool
of thunderclouds
to witness
the world's end.
That chimney rose
so high the stars
themselves dodged
the hum of songs
birthed, evolved
and dead within
its long throat.
Many roasted
on the hearth,
their oiled smoke
caught on the flue.
Did I buy
a brick? Yes,
an orange one,
as flaked as
the ones that held
my grandmother
beneath her roof;
But I didn't like
the pointing, and
their choice of mortar
was shoddy. I've
still got it, here,
just in case, you know.