Ash

I have no ash / no firebox growing cold

just an inferno of summer at my door

raging incessant heat

invisible billows of flames

scorching the washing within minutes of hanging

I have no ash / neatly collected

just the blackened stumps left by the riverside

evidence from aggressive cooking fires

running away after dark

leaving silver pods of foil, unnatural remnants 

of kangaroo tail and charcoal stink

I have no ash / fragrant and messy 

except yesterday's memories

grey, ashen and useless to me now

unless it is the building of a story

that later comes out in poetry.