Crouched, I pile twigs balls of newspaper,
snap off square of white fire starter. Stretch
out my hand for red wine. Place the glass
back on low bench, by an open copy
The Best Australian Poems 2017. Igniting
fireplace kindling. Poetry heats my brain.
I watch paper twist to ash, twigs glow red.
Tomorrow night, I’ll ask him to grab beer —
last taste of lingering summer. Tonight,
enjoy this fire I duck down, place log,
watch it blacken. Smelling the fruit of this shiraz —
grapes picked at end of summer – tasting sun,
crouching so he can watch The Footy Show
I pretend I don’t have school tomorrow.
