The Boiler

I saw beasts burning alive
in the shadow of the night.
A thumb and finger pressing
on a candle flame.
The red and orange inside
my folks old burner.
Plied with used newspapers and wood.
Submerged beneath a carpet of coke.
Hard metal furnace, heating
the house on Laburnum Avenue.
Twenty four seven, three hundred
and sixty five days a year.
Regardless of the weather.
Inside those dancing flames,
sit memories stretching out decades.

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