by Susan Gillis
21 December
bonfire at the bottom of the first field as the sun approached the horizon
a high ridge interrupted by trees
the five of us lit long matches to the understory of kindling at the same moment
the sky pearly, dove-mauve, stayed light for quite awhile
dusk deepened, the fire deepened and brightened
we threw old letters and charms into the flames
the pyre collapsed in a crash and blaze of sparks
I was ladling out bowls of hot cider
everyone’s Oh! as though one
exhalation of sparks spraying up, up, spinning at the corner of my eye
I turned to watch the glimmers climb and vanish
what awful sound would have come out if I had opened my throat then
my father so newly dead
the solar year beginning
— from Juniper Volume 3, Issue 3