for christopher robin

kevin young

song of smoke

To watch you walk
cross the room in your black

corduroys is to see
civilization start -

the wish -
whish-whisk

of your strut is flint
striking rock - the spark

of a length of cord
rubbed till

smoke starts - you stir
me like coal

and for days smolder.
I am no more

a Boy Scout and, besides,
could never

put you out - you
keep me on

all day like an iron, out
of habit -

you threaten, brick
house, to burn

all this down. You leave me
only a chimney.

8 comments:

chitta vritti said...

oh, you're blogging! hi Eeyore :) can i come too?

eeyore said...

yes, you have to!

boodiba said...

For some reason now I want to read Anne Sexton.

eeyore said...

why not, me too.

boodiba said...

She was a righteous mess.

annabella said...

that is beautiful.

And I know CR is appreciative.

xoxo!

eeyore said...

thanks anna! oooh a.s. was a mess, wasn't she? but in a cool way, i suppose.

boodiba said...

Sexton was cool. She should've never divorced the husband though. His support was what kept her alive. Didn't take too long for her to finally fatally unravel all the way once he was gone.