Poem by Donal Mahoney

Meg’s New WallsSue phones the hotel around midnight.Two weeks earlier, at her request,I took a room there.Three bags,half packed in the corner,are ready to go back.“There’s been a fire,”Sue says. I ask“Is everyone all right?”They are. “How did it start?”“My matches,” Sue says,“and one of the kids.”Weeks later, I visit the kidsat the house and findthe workmen have finished.From the top stair, Meg