Scott Simpson · Poetry
Gravel and Smoke
Use For Kindling · source pages 79
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Source page 79
Gravel and Smoke
One house had gravel falling
from the sky, this one has brush
fire smoke— burning the dead
branches on a sub-zero morning.
It smells like your grandfather’s
cabin, but it’s not nostalgia
we’re after today. We’re naming
what hurts, not to break more, but
to make room for something softer.
We sit in the snowlight, not
warming ourselves by flames
but by honesty.
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