of fabulous devestation and putrid love

I filed into the concerned mod of onlookers,
something feral and endless
snickering silently behind masks
as we pretend to be upset by the blaze.
In the guttering glow of the quenched fire the audience began to disperse
damage done
spectalar exhibition closing it's curtain
into dusk they dissolved, satiated.
Unable to yet look away from such fabulous devastation,
gaudy entrapments laid singed and melted,
transfixed, I did not see you fading with the rest.
Muted by darkness,
this tableau stood fixedly wretched well into the night.
Alone now, I laughed aloud finally,
I yelped a twanged cry as something stirred,
deep below the ashes, the spent cinders lurching into motion,
it was hatching.
Millions of eyes immediately assembled
to view the politically motivated parlor trick,
a colorful holographic bird appeareared to fly
directly into the morning sun
in the most telephotogenic way possible.
While the contingent of watchers stared
jaws dropped and sighed,
small cooing sighs as calculated,
we alone looked to the dirt below,
you and I saw the cockroaches scurry from the ashes,
while everyone else witnessed a false phoenix.