The Burner

The Burner

I worry. The time's coming when I'll need a lad
an apprentice as malleable as a green brick.
I'll need time to shape him to fit this job
to impress upon him all he'll need to know.
I tell myself I should warn him
about the Olympian feeling
of crisp winter mornings
when you lead the flame from stack to stack

convincing the bricks to give up their heat
like a craft secret passing father to son.
I should warn him also about the nights he'll be the devil
delighting in the hell fire that fills the bodies below.

I worry, but I will keep my worries to myself
- after all we're only making bricks -
I will be like the old boys I remember as a lad
and lead him up the stairs to start his life on top of the kiln
sure that the fire will speak to him better than I ever can.

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