To lift this wanting up out of dead wood.
Something, someone reaches up to stop this rising
as though the movement up is treasonous.
This wanting has been frozen, caught in the grain
of the fallen log for ten thousand years: Memories
of ice ages and mastodons.
But in the wood is the dream of burning--of flames,
heat and tongues of orange/red/leaping up into
the night, warming those who come close by.
This wanting breaks open the wood. The sow bugs,
spiders, beetles and the invisible captains of decay
are relieved of duty.
This wood is for fire and it is time to burn.
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