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Gas Fire
Leaf-green and rather sleek, I thought,
at fourteen or fifteen, the internet
my bookseller. I've lost it now,
that old collected works,
as evergreen as Christian hymns.
He taught me, I suppose, that loneliness
is like a house, untenanted in spite
of what’s been bought and set out new
for laughter, years, and food, and love.
The silence like a single glove.
The line remembered most, back then,
was this: The gas-fire breathes.
Last verse of Best Society. Before my time,
the gas fire. Yet I could see and feel
its heat, as if his lonely house was mine.
at fourteen or fifteen, the internet
my bookseller. I've lost it now,
that old collected works,
as evergreen as Christian hymns.
He taught me, I suppose, that loneliness
is like a house, untenanted in spite
of what’s been bought and set out new
for laughter, years, and food, and love.
The silence like a single glove.
The line remembered most, back then,
was this: The gas-fire breathes.
Last verse of Best Society. Before my time,
the gas fire. Yet I could see and feel
its heat, as if his lonely house was mine.
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