Burning up the World, at least part of
it
Trying to make a fire, I started with
wood shavings
And brown pine needles, but they were
still damp
From the rains. Then I tried tiny oak
twigs and
Maple leaves but all I got was a pile
of smoking
Rubble. Finally I got angry and tore
the middle
Pages out of the old atlas starting
with North
Dakota, and crumpled the northern
plains
And set them on fire.
They too took a moment to catch as if
grass
Can’t burn when it’s covered with
ice.
I added some of the Ozarks for good
measure
And soon I had a blaze of Midwestern
heat
With flames licking the last of the
prairie
Curling up to the Great Divide. I
roasted
My toes in the warmth of the orange
dance
And fed half-burnt pages from the
neighboring
States until the whole country was lit
and a cat
Stood in the circle to feel the heat of
it.
Soon the sky cleared until only a white
ring
Shone around the moon and I finally
tossed
Even the poker into the fire and
watched it
Leap into the conflagration as two
moths
Appeared.
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