From the archives – Ardors by Maryann Corbett



What makes the engine go?
Desire, desire, desire —Stanley Kunitz

As if the sin of Adam took its toll
on trees, the maples stricken with the fall
burn in their sins. Red passion and proud gold,

their vanities float down like scraps of flame.
Lives ago, we burned them—garden stubble
and leaves—the yard’s year gone in a smoky plume

curling to heaven. Now the tumulus
of compost seethes in its center, simmers, mulls.
We rake the piles. The crickets’ wings rehearse

desire, desire, slowing as daylight’s slant
unwarms the world. We feel it too, the chill,
the ache displacing older, wilder want:

Leaf into loam, red giant to black hole,
lust into languor, everything that burns
burns out: the dust, the gas, the acrid smell,

the end of the matter. All our burning’s doomed,
even these fires where maple trees are found
still ardent after years, still unconsumed.

from Autumn Sky Poetry DAILY, October 1, 2015 — by Maryann Corbett

photo by Christine Klocek-Lim

One thought on “From the archives – Ardors by Maryann Corbett

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.