Long whine of why to fall, edge of call—stay with me—stay with me, you
Oh holy holy holy
coals broke open on wet old ash—cold, close astronomy—ask me
what I know—only smoke—only smoke...
Ah purity purity purity
the thin birch birthed in ash and earth—this little, worthy wood
written in upturned dirt—ask again—ask again...
And sweetly sweetly sweetly
if the green canopy gleams to eat light—leaves like teeth—retreat to
the past-peaked sun's reply—repeat—like fire, but higher—
Alison Shaffer lives in Pittsburgh with her imaginary cat
and pet refrigerator. Her work has been published in The God Particle,
Not Just Air, and Ink Pot Magazine, and her chapbook, The
Rosary Poems, is available through 2River.org.