Lovers Jump To Death From Burning Building Poem by Warren Falcon

From late night collapse of limes rum
lovers leap to death in each others arms.
Upon the sill they lean resigned,
dead calm revolving in a yellow light.

Neither fright nor anger nor drunken joy
calls them to this moment but habit.

Each morning settles something, so
they resolve half asleep in the window
to disturb the air. Bidden by fire, with
thickened tongues, they obediently fall
hidden in all alarms.