You bring home the unsalvageable,
one oaken length at a time—
pegged mortise, treenail and tenon,
to fuel our fire. We have by now
burnt an entire home,
sweeping the hand-smithed nails
from the hearth with the ashes
to strew beneath the hemlock.
When we are gone,
they will surmise a great fire
destroyed a cabin here.
Sarah Elkins lives and writes in Lewisburg, WV. Her poetry has appeared in Sanskrit Literary Arts Magazine, Northridge Review, Summer Stock Journal, and Rust + Moth; her critical analysis in Kestrel. Sarah is a student in the MFA program at Pacific University.