Theresa Muñoz: Fire, somewhere
Theresa Muñoz
Fire, somewhere
smoke
rises
in the south
thick plumes
float
casually, diagonally
above
buildings
of white brick
eyes trace
the dark
smoke curls
to where they trail off
but not
where they begin
trying to
pinpoint
the blaze
as sirens
race up the hill
Platform
the tiniest
of sense
determines direction
ears follow
the long rushing whistle
rising beyond
concrete pillars
the metallic roof
its outer layer
looking down
the tunnel’s mouth
gripping
suitcase handle
heart swells
as a dot of light
appears
glides closer
Power cut
no glow
from the oven clock
no clicks
from the coffee machine
fingertips graze
the table top
feet don’t trust
the linoleum
to the window
where
inside blends
with
outside dark
buildings
melt into trees
into grass
no one left
in a world
gone out
Berlin
under spotlights
we lift round cups
with thick handles
a thin shimmer
on the coffee’s surface
*
a giant tin soldier
lights up
the Ku’damm
white beams
form
his winking buttons
*
inside the Sony Centre,
a glass dome
we are two figures
in a snow globe
marvelling
at the honey-comb roof
*
bright against
the white sky
the East Side gallery
murals stretch
along the icy ground
behind us
flows
the River Spree
in the pub’s
corner
a tabby sleeps
on top of the radiator
when my camera
clicks and flashes
two gray eyes
open
*
back at the hotel
closing the drapes
though
it’s winter
the day’s been bright
even
the steady orange lamps
lighting the street
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Theresa Muñoz was born in Vancouver, Canada and now lives in Edinburgh. Her work has appeared in both Canada and the United Kingdom, including in Canadian Literature, New Writing Scotland, Poetry Scotland and Stand magazine. She is a regular contributor to the Herald’s book pages and the Scottish Review of Books. She is currently writing a doctoral thesis on the work of Tom Leonard at Glasgow University. Her pamphlet Close is forthcoming from HappenStance Press in 2012.
