Friday Poem: Peat

The Aeolian Revue has published another one of my poems. Go and have a look at their other writers too.

This poem was written a couple of years ago in a small cottage in Baltimore on the South coast of Ireland. We used peat in the cast iron stove.

Peat

A slow burn bound in black

giving nothing away

save the stains on hands

trousers

anything you care

to name

nameless as flame is

as flames are

lost

collapsing compressed bricks

processed as wild is

by staining hands and anything

we care to claim

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