Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Dirty Woodstove Fingers Remind Me of Our First Home

Drove too much today, burned too much
fuel then I came home and collected some more
wood from the basement where there's a
small pile still not dry, it steams shhh-ing me
when I try to get it going
in our tiny cracked woodstove, it's just not
as nice as the Vermont Castings
we had in our yurt when we relied on
it more than we had relied on
anything in the world before, and what's more
I get going soon after on
the meat loaf that will bake in the oven
for over an hour and we
didn't have an oven for two years either
or electricity or
running water
and even though no one believes me, not
even him, I miss the hell out of it
and its honesty its gritty,
dirty, depressing darkness, its making
us get up in the middle of
the night to pee outside under the stars
and the full moons were the greatest
in the middle of winter, below 10
degrees that's when I'd pee right there
by the door, leaving my mark in the snow,
like a real animal, then growling when
stuffing the woodstove full again and again
throughout the night
and purring once I'd gotten close to
him under the layers upon layers
of fleece blankets, sleeping bags and

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