Revenge Arson (Round 2)

Let's workshop this poem, which is a reworking of a published piece of the same name (see the previous post)

Revenge Arson

He had the coat-check girl choked up against the wall
for insisting she was done. Those in the club, “a room
between the vacant floors of a Brooklyn three-story,”
laughed as a bouncer yoked him with rear-naked jujitsu.
Spitting at the dragged man, she taunted “Small dick!
Get that small-dick-ass nigga out!” Morning papers
would call the space “doomed by an ill-fated fusion 
of factors: escape windows scissor-gated against code,
sprinkler system inoperative, security door padlocked.
‘No one stood a chance,’ reports Fire Chief Enriquez.”

Having sung a warning into the Williamsburg wind—
“Mahfuckas best be out!”—the petechia-cheeked man,
“seen in a FUBU hoodie,” Timb-booted back sloshing
a sixty-four ounce Gatorade of eighty-seven unleaded.
Accelerant pulsed across the stairwell in whisper song,
he lit the match that left piles of bodies waxen midlife,
the luckiest few still clutching drinks. Morning papers 
would say “Flushing Ave blaze asphyxiates forty seven.
Most inside the illegal social club found with clothing,
even skin, torn away in the hopeless panic to escape.”

This poem is unpublished (although based on a published one)

Photo from a similar fire in the Bronx (where almost ninety people were killed): keyretouch.com/happy-land-bronx-fire-k.html