A fire in the hospital was

contained but decimated

microscopic specimens and

caused havoc amongst cadavers,

 

no laughing matter,

a thousand quid’s worth

of damage and traffic

stilled, horses bridled,

 

a crowd thrilled,

some muttering that

electricity isn’t to be trusted,

“if God wanted … ”

 

some censorious gentleman

began but was quipped

by “he’d wouldn’t have

given us gas,”

 

from a wit gaily quick i

n those days when

the word implied

high spirited,

 

no sexual connotations,

please, we’re Victorian and

defer to the highest spirit

of them all,

 

with God at the apex of

His attendant angels,

no befriender of fire

from all accounts

 

although what She thought

of gender preferences wasn’t

questioned, guessing God’s

thoughts was tantamount to heresy.

 

So the blaze was erased,

well, I didn’t notice it when

passing, 120 years after the event

startling enough to make headlines,

 

get folk talking,

way back when churches

and brothels were regularly attended,

the Good Old Days –

 

God knows why we’re

intrigued by predecessors

now reduced to microscopic

specks in the dirt.

 

Perhaps God finds us similarly interesting,

we’re Their guilty pleasure

like avoiding tedious theology

and secretly reading penny dreadfuls.

 

Jeff Kemp