sleeping above a fire

last night we found the fireplace
we had always suspected was hidden
in our apartment. the smell of churning fire
crouched just behind our teeth
& then there it was under your bed
with all the stone & the row of pokers.
we could not find where all the smoke was going.
you opened my mouth & i opened yours
to check for clouds. your teeth were
so grey from stress i told you
we should sleep more. 
when i first met you, we slept so much.
our feet were perpendicular objects
& you folded each pillow in half.
the morning is a lot like
a trough of hay. the goats 
crowd the sun. i was born in a town
the size of a dime & it could hold
so many cows. the cows come
to warm themselves by our fireplace.
it is astounding how quickly a memory
can become material. just the other day 
i remembered a lover from before i met you
& then there he was smelling
like a fallen tree. he asked me
to use him for firewood.
he came apart easily, revealing 
his soft wood. an evergreen.
the snap of branches. there is 
enough to last us the last few years
of winters. the winters are flocking
this year, one after the next.
their feathers sometimes fall on the sidewalk
& i collect them. you still don't believe me
that they are great huge swans
but one day we will see them together
& i promise not to rub it in.
i will just say, here they are.
our hands are cooking by the fireplace.
two medallions of meat. i count your fingers
& you count mine. we can't get 
an even number though we are sure
we both have five fingers on each hand.
a finger falls off & turns into 
a knot in a tree. you touch me 
& leave branding marks. call me your
cattle & when i run away these marks
will help you find me. fantasy is morphing
right before our eyes in a world with
such certain cold. will you miss me
when am all kindling? it is a silly question
of course you will but at least
you will be warm. the winters 
are getting into formation.
have you ever tried to burn a feather?
each little tuft twists 
& blackens until only 
the stem remains.