Poetry | Lord, Los Angeles needs water

Here, the language of loss is fire,

It climbed into the mall,

an old man poured it fuel,

a girl's dress burnt and she ran home,

with fire on her body,

a boy tried to save her,

he caught fire too and ran to the dry grass,

the grass flickered with fire,

and burnt the elephant,

the elephant went to the water and burnt the fishes,

the smoke reached the sky and

the birds choked.

Lord help,

The old is fueling,

the children are burning,

heaven is choking.