Our Cabin

Photo by Sarah Lim
Photo by Sarah Lim

By Beth McIlvaine

My radio tells me the legend
of the winter so cold
it froze the flames of burning building,left it a solid flower
blossoming its curved fingers
toward the sky,
paled the reds and yellows
and left it half-whole
all winter.
And I think
this is how it was
after I leftafter that pain that
earthquaked the air
until nothing in me moved.That I am the wood
that slowed in its dyingthat I am
the stunned, breathless fire
that I am
the stern forest
averting its eyes.
That I am the one
stumbling across this still wonder
just as the frost breaks,
time snaps back to its doing,
the sudden shaking of the air
startling me to ashes.

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