Trash Burning

The subject: forgotten rituals,

how in shirtsleeves
I carried the kitchen trash through brittle snow
and lit it,

expectant,

knowing the cold’s first shudder
would shrink my crotch
and start intestinal spasms,

how then the wait for crumbled cinders to darken
would conjure shapes
outside the circle of fire

and I must run for the doorway
or lose to wolves.