by Steven J. Serafiani

I want to live
in a cottage
a cottage in
maine no
vermont no
maine wake
with that the
tempest settles
into the eternal
ball of burnt
orange yarn
drink coffee
or green tea
right out front
on the wooden
porch that peeks
through a docile
pine spring bend
white tailed path
chop wood for as
long as my arms
can muster
listen to my
heart finally beat
in a natural order
take that freshly
chopped wood and
light it aflame in
that iron centuries
stove that many
hands have traced on
with peace and ceremony
read a classic
not with irony but

:water vapor
howl from
the bottom
of my gut
as the way
I wasn’t

I want to live in
a cottage in
maine in this
cottage my
parents won’t die
my sister won’t
die and I won’t age
young man burning
with that burnt orange
ball of yarn for
an eternal never