Within the smoking city, soul ridden and draped with strops of gloom like cobwebs
Catching embers like squirming fireflies,
Under a sky dotted with cold white fire,
Indifferent to the net of searing orange flames that climbs the iron steps of every black building, zigzags up,
Escape becomes the hunter.
Stalks you blind in a dusk made of soft sable and thick, hot grey fog.
You ***** in the dark.
It sees without eyes.
You run and it licks at your ankles like flames.
And it will have you.