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"shards of glass are one thing - but a marble, there's something to feed your dragons on."

Thursday

Our Chimney (Our Emasculated House)

Mum tore the chimney off our house. It had been steely, erect, unsinkable in the tile-waves, locks of heat crimping its sides every Christmas after we lit the fire to pretend it was winter while Mum blanched in her memories and we sweated silently over unopened gifts. Smoggy curls, almost bad breath, snaked from its nostrils on Sundays when her swampy sighs extinguished us all, and rolling black smoke, freckled with sparks, spumed heavenward when we made the fire too big and sprinkled on secret handfuls of flour – like little witch doctors repulsing disease. But it’s just a hole now.
Comments: I like to call my dwelling corner a hole in a ground. Perhaps it is your missing chimney, or ruins of it.

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