I want to burn
some of this year
to nothing,
but ash,
like snow,
falls to the ground
where we will
walk again.
And smoke? We
breathe it in,
and, dragonlike,
exhale flames
that torch
crows and crops
alike.
Be careful
what you burn,
I tell myself today,
stir the embers gently,
as if they were a soup
you would spoon
into every mouth.
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