Gas Logs

“We don’t use the fireplace anymore.”

I was the only one who used it anyway.

I used it; I loved it.

I loved the fire’s dancing,

Contained in a cage.

It saved me. It saved me when my carols

Drowned in noise: Flames and carols captive,

Flames and carols drowning, but flickering still.

Never a Silent Night,

Yet

Each was always bright.

One switch, and it was on;

So powerful, it could burn this place down,

Yet subdued, calm—with ash like snow.

What would happen if the fire escaped?

Was there ever a choice?

We flickered together, waiting—

So powerful,

Contained in such a little space.

Not for long.

“We don’t use the fireplace anymore.”

You can’t use something that’s not there.