Wood burning stove

 

Wood burning stove

Fire fully woken
within its black belly

reduce the air to slivers
flames forced to sip
savour the warmed wine
let it soak into their tongues

a charred cuckoo-clock

I imagine the cuckoo
choking on song
waiting to burst free

announcing midnight
with a flurry of flames
squeezed from its scorched
thread-thin throat

ticks as it unlatches the wood
deciding on the fly
how time should tock

a mouse made of memories
stirs from the glowing embers
crumbles its womb
with its waking

the length between breaths
between moments

decided by the size of the flesh
and how long to chew
the mouthfuls of grain

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s