The adults’ heads
were as tall as the black sky,
organised fire spat
under their chins.
I was in the grass of my
primary school’s field, hot
chocolate with hidden whiskey
dripped onto the top of my
beanie. My gloves were too
nervous to let sparklers dance.
I positioned my eyes forward,
told my ears it will be over soon.
Then a ginger cat climbed out
of the lit bonfire, shook debris
off its back. It stretched its legs,
yawned, thought nothing of the show.

© Carl Burkitt 2023