Emily Barton Altman
From the hearth, focus:
the earth, hot and still
in its instance.
Fire as root,
tended and sown for some other
need, other than
here. Be
here—how easy it is
to leave and to take,
nothing behind.
Recycle bones, frail
architecture, to become
another thing, skinned structure
wrapped and dusted, subject
to particular winds. Spangled is
the earth with her crowns.
Walk back
the way you came
to tell the ground.