I’m going for a controlled burn
Lamps lit far away
Fell on the floor and rolled out to a field which found a forest which waits for me
My back against the river
Back-burning
To leave nothing
Nothing else to eat
I’ve gone swailing again
My back against the river
Setting little fires along the bank
A baker’s dozen to back-burn
Leaving nothing
No fuel when the big blaze comes
Nothing else to eat
I still have seed shells popping out into the ether
My back against the river
Back-burning little seeds
They must burn to must grow
With no choice but the flame
The glowing growing flame
Growing my face red
My back slick like the river
Facing flame backed up on nothing
Nothing else to eat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem