There is an opening in the mess that was her Dresden house,
once, two days ago. Now the flames are gone, she sees the sky,
still trembling in the heat.
Some half burned pigeons shiver before dying,
glorious day of victory has come.
In grotesk embraces people lie;
in the bathroom, where the toilet still remains,
her neighbours became coal. She never knew they had pink tiles –
it’s morning glow.
The church does stand, for now, but god is dead
and out-of-place. Her eyes take in for later to begrieve,
she leaves the city to a newer horror phase,
as she survived.