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Campfire This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By
My ashen gentleman arises. Rich in cinders,
his hands unravel to smother the splinters
and soothe me like bubbling brandy. Evenings
often I collapse atop my sketch pad, pages jolted
with willows and whimpers and that old, ugly owl,
and he carries me in a tea cozy of smoke,
where I awake to eggs and crisp French toast
(he does try not to burn the edges).

Each drawing is shaded in shy, charcoal strokes.
But if I reach up toward his burnt cheeks to kiss,
he disintegrates ’round me, lost as the mist.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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This article has 4 comments. Post your own now!

KimenSnow said...
Jul. 16, 2011 at 2:46 pm
This poem was very comforting, yet tinged with sorrow. Good work.
 
BitterSweet1993 said...
Mar. 18, 2011 at 8:09 am
So close, yet so far. Incredibly saddening, incredibly touching.
 
Elizabeth S. said...
Apr. 30, 2010 at 9:35 pm
oh my god...you have no idea how amazing this is
 
littlemelover said...
Sept. 17, 2008 at 5:35 pm
this poem was soooo cool
 
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