her Palisades house
one of thousands burned
but it was hers
not just the stucco and tile roof
her favorite reading chair in the sunroom
or great-grandfather’s weathervane
not even the family photo albums
generational jewelry travel keepsakes
or the home-made wooden mailbox
it was the soul that inhabited it
protector comforter
oldest companion dearest friend
speaking to the reporter
outside its charred carcass
she chokes up
I pray it didn’t hurt
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