Leveler Poetry Journal
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The Wood Pile

 

When all seems coal,

stir the ashes & a small plume

drifts toward the neighbor’s

through a chimney

opened in the igloo

formed when you pile

the snow higher

atop the cinders

glowing from the last

stirred embers

to staunch the fire —

the black, the gray,

the choking smoke

from the pyre,

tall as you are,

as you pile more wood

with fury, you squint to ward off

the heat of the inferno

as you carry the bundles

& place them, like small dogs

into the flames, you light

first from kindling, & paper,

& with each bundle,

your lower back burns

from the load,

the load of logs you saw

& clip, bundle-sized,

your whole back burns

as, faced with your mounds of wood,

you withhold tears

the only way you know how,

with saw in hand,

with your brawn.




Carla Schwartz