After the fires:

Evander lounges on the new settee
which, of course, is not ours.
I take photos to document
that life is fine. Is it?
Function has not returned.
But this morning I am able to sit,
the new pillow that’s too plump
for sleep making the landlord’s chair
almost comfortable.
Sunday morning. I sip my tea,
you rattle your paper,
the cat settles in.