House on Fire

This house is kindling—
with a wood burning stove.
He has her hiding in the bathtub

where she shaved her legs twice today.
She can hear the cockatiel tweet
as he shoves trees in the stove.

Her mother is a gray pigeon
toasty in a tarnished cage.
She can hear the green fern carol,

This house is a pyre—
A hot ham poked with cloves.
He has her hiding in the goat pen

where she fed her goats twice today.
She can smell the rabbits fry
in black cast iron skillets and grease.

Her sister is a chicken breast
baked dry on a cracked glass tray.
She can hear the horseweeds sighing,

This family aflame—
Roast beef and potatoes.
He has her hiding in the maples

where she kills herself twice a day.
She can hear the red stream giggle,
a shallow ditch swelling with pain.

Her father, a devil,
his pitchfork in the hay.
She can hear the damp grass whisper,

Your house is on fire,
get out.

Copyright © 2005 Susan Yount All rights reserved
from Elixir
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission