a poem in my pocket

Dark-vowelled smoking columns aspire ruin

as dust-tongued, forested roof caves innavely;

water-spoken island surrenders to timbers

of flamed and lillified heaven-circling pyre.

Aghast of tragedy, fire-dwarfed gargoyles are

hearting a tear-culled Paris in hymnally tone

to dignify bell-voiced ash of towering ages;

above rubble, The King’s cross, power-gilded stands.

Linking to dVerse poetics with Laura Bloomsbury and loving the hyphenate-coined words by poet Dylan Thomas (as featured in my poem).