"Song of Smoke" by Kevin Young

Song of Smoke
by Kevin Young

To watch you walk
cross the room in your black

corduroys is to see
civilization start—

the wish-
whish-whisk

of your strut is flint
striking rock—the spark

of a length of cord
rubbed till

smoke starts—you stir
me like coal

and for days smoulder.
I am no more

a Boy Scout and, besides,
could never

put you out—you
keep me on

all day like an iron, out
of habit—

you threaten, brick-
house, to burn

all this down. You leave me
only a chimney.

Read, listen, share, create, and be on watch.