 |
| Fire at the port of Montreal |
by Irving Layton
Below me the city was in flames:
the firemen were the first to save
themselves. I saw steeples fall on their knees.
I saw an agent kick the charred bodies
from an orphanage to one side, marking
the site carefully for a future speculation.
Lovers stopped short of the final spasm
and went off angrily in opposite directions,
their elbows held by giant escorts of fire.
Then the dignitaries rode across the bridges
under an auricle of light which delighted them,
noting for later punishment those that went before.
And the rest of the population, their mouths
distorted by an unusual gladness, bawled thanks
to this comely and ravaging ally, asking
Only for more light with which to see
their neighbour's destruction.
All this I saw through my improved binoculars.
[1955]
the firemen were the first to save
themselves. I saw steeples fall on their knees.
I saw an agent kick the charred bodies
from an orphanage to one side, marking
the site carefully for a future speculation.
Lovers stopped short of the final spasm
and went off angrily in opposite directions,
their elbows held by giant escorts of fire.
Then the dignitaries rode across the bridges
under an auricle of light which delighted them,
noting for later punishment those that went before.
And the rest of the population, their mouths
distorted by an unusual gladness, bawled thanks
to this comely and ravaging ally, asking
Only for more light with which to see
their neighbour's destruction.
All this I saw through my improved binoculars.
[1955]
No comments:
Post a Comment