I wrote a Verse Novel about Grenfell called MY NAME IS X.

This is one of the poems from it. I t is called  LUNGS FINALE.

 

The tower –

the heat,

the black doors,

the red-mountain staircase,

the egg-shell steps down,

the charcoal-grey air,

the crackling skins,

the open mouths,

the firefighter arms. 

  

The fire god

waits beneath

with black charcoal cloaks

to push death stories

into lungs.

 

I exhale.

Their pain diffused through words,

carried on the air leaving me.

 

I remember

never to forget.