The fireworks are numb. Their vocal cords are gelatine.

The car is combusting, combusting, combusting.
Plucked meat. Wet feathers. Wet bone.
Gagged by hooks, by coins, by pebbles,
She is red tar weeping. But wordless.
His lurch is a buffet, a rivet, a spear.
She is sunk in white wax. She is drowning.

Publication details: "The fireworks are numb" first appeared when it was posted on the Internet by Hugh Cook in 2002. Copyright © 2002 Hugh Cook. All rights reserved.