There is no quiet like a clearcut before it is bulldozed and burned
before it is circled by hawks ready for the life to come.

We wait for the first connection
when flame touches dead wood and jumps it to life.
We wait for fire jumping creek beds into hollows
between one remaining stand of trees
and  another.

Fire will find the hand it has been feeling for.
Will streams into the mouth, eating the tongue and teeth.
Fire will follow the stump down into stone
burning everything alive.

There will be no separating one from the other in that fire
and no one taken can be later



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