| The sirens whine | - | flames flash |
| and lights slice through smoke | - | heavy with the smell of steak |
| shrouding bodies littering the ground | - | charred at the edges. |
| The policeman stalks a straight line | - | I swallow, I gulp |
| I wobble, | - | expensive |
| booze on my breath | - | red wine |
| and guilt in my guts | - | trying to conceal burnt meat. |
P. T. Diep is a doctor (a histopathologist) living in Norwich, UK. He is exploring life, death and other transitions through writing, with the support of his wife who is much more talented. His poetry has been previously published in such places as flashquake, Ink Sweat & Tears, and Poetry News (The Poetry Society UK). He came second in the Hamish Canham Poetry Prize 2008. He is the editor of The Cleave poetry webzine.