A Fishwife’s Song of Incredulous Burn

by RAVITTE KENTWORTZ

after the 2014 fire season in Northern Colorado 

Fiddle, fiddle and fire
cows the moon. Yarrow
and ash in cracked rock.

            Night netted in smoke, and I wait
for you to love me. In passing,

snow turns mottled black, fire
truck tracks cake a blacktop.

                                    Downstream,
cutthroats wheeze air and I wait
a consuming fire
on the mountain top.    

In snow, scorched seeds spike with fever,     
uprooted fireweeds stand— 
I am waiting by a roadside singe.

            You defy grasp—
in your belly—coals, smoke
                                    taken in, a cough
lights bright the circuit of a fish's gonads.

When soot stings your gills   
you laugh, wait—I'll touch you
                        in runaway streams,
I'll count the glints on your coat of arms,
wait—             short shrift water holds

a mayfly to your open mouth, I spoon
for fish in flame, fiddle fiddle
I spoon in empty brine.

A roasted moon extends
your stroke:     scorched
mouths swallow,

                                    empty vesseled,
                                    night's crisped bows
                                    reflect on plated ice.