Nothing Burns Hotter Than Manzanita

punched into the sponge

of need, therefore blended

by sparkling ash and waiting

upon forthcoming loaves,

and satisfaction is the butter,

limp and liquid, last reaction

of the fine elastic crumb

and crust, turned out

steaming on our common table,

so the fire (come and gone,

carried home, kindled

and consumed, a restless

conjuration in a firebox:

manzanita joints nested

like rebroken bones)

is the combination of an oath,

and a practice, and what is wanted.