Ash - Stephen Kronenberg

[speculumannorum]

Reading Laying the Fire, Andrew Motion

My father managed
logs and ash

on chilled mornings
in the suburbs

scraping
the fire place clean

with a soft brush
and shovel

fit for purpose.
He swept carefully

holding his breath
so as not to breathe

the inevitable
delicate dust

of yesterday’s briquettes
and wood.

And when done
he held up a sheet

of newsprint
in front of the new

meticulous pile
of twigs and paper,

willing a new day’s
fire to spark and catch.

He was confident
in this manly practice—

knew the ropes.
But any familial hopes

he had about certitude
peace or quiet

were burnt most days
as small domestic

catastrophes
rose in flames,

leaving nothing
but grey ash.

-

Meanjin

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