There’s more than one
way to start a fire,

and more than one way
for it not to take. You say,

oh, you never know… but
I’ve spent, cumulatively, days

out in the cold warming soggy
twigs and burning birch

paper to get a spark to grow.
Remember that house we

found in Manzanita, right
out of the 70s, all driftwood

and macrame, with a wood
-burning stove? You read

while I fiddled with the
damper, opened the draw.

It’s true we had a fire then;
but what I’m saying is

it requires some skill
and a fair bit of luck:

A fire breathes. It needs,
and although needs must

when the devil drives,
if there’s no kindling

the damn thing
will not start.