Tuesday, September 2, 2014

No One's Going to Freeze to Death Inside This Man's Cave

After an hour or so of crumpling newspaper,
teepeeing kindling with plumb-bob precision,
and gently breathing coals into a near-sensual
glow, the house turns hot as a Norwegian sauna.

Forced to open every door and window wide
to the frostbitten world beyond our threshold
just so we can inhale again, we eventually find
relief from the curative effects of a moist-heat sweat.

My country-born wife can keep the woodstove
mellow and lightly-stoked all week long until fire
reverts to its natural owner (man) on Saturday.
Truth be told, I suspect it was actually a woman

who discovered how to make fire (on purpose).
Probably trying to figure out how to do something
different with leftover mammoth. I don't know.
Here's what I do know: it's 25 outside, 92 inside.

And, although I've knelt before my wife and begged
her sweet indulgence for this ridiculous swelter,
secretly I am beating my fists against my hairy chest,
grunting at the gods after my rising up to conquer cold.




The Homesteady Review - Fall 2014

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