White Petals Black Petrol

It’s like when you see snow falling.
Then you realise,
it’s actually the white petals of spring
they are falling.

It’s the beauty of a dove,
tumbling from the sky.
Or a candle blowing out,
or a red autumn leaf, fading.

It’s angelic and demonic;
It’s human
- whatever that is?
Coz I don’t know.

It’s my secret.
But everybody knows.
But everybody keeps forgetting.
And it’s crooked, like a beautiful, old, tree.

It’s thick black petrol.
Drifting over white ice.
You set it alight
and suddenly, you have water, and fire.