MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Weevil by Mark Berkerey

Table of Contents

Poetry


Firewood

Sandi Leibowitz

He tells me about the years he lived out in the country
without electricity
and had to scrounge the woods for firewood,
how he searched for branches already downed
to spare not just his labor
but also the slow and earnest labor of the forest.

One time he found a huge maple limb, hollow,
perfect for heating the cabin
but when he picked it up
discovered a bat asleep inside,
so he had to pass it by.

Why didnít you just shake it out? I ask.
He tells me he couldnít evict it,
force the bat homeless
into the brutal day.

Women have loved men
for less.




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