This poem is taken from Stand 230, 19(2) June - August 2021.
Bottle Kiln
Vivid. It still burns in my head
the yawning mouth of the fire he feeds,
Flames leap, the roar and the wall of heat,
his sparse frame running with sweat,
half covered by a scrap of vest.
...
the yawning mouth of the fire he feeds,
Flames leap, the roar and the wall of heat,
his sparse frame running with sweat,
half covered by a scrap of vest.
...
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