#83 Kevin Brophy ‘Bonfire afterwards’

The book of poetry I read today

had an old paint tin under the fence,

a dead snake by the verandah,

part of its boundary fence collapsed under

a fallen trunk, some rubbish in the far corner

beneath a wattle tree, two bird baths,

a rising sun, a forest path, several lovers and

a growing pile of cut grass, logs and branches

readied for the bonfire that will be lit

once the poems have been properly read,

highlighted and returned to the shelf.