Over the wicked winter,
Young John lived in his cousin’s half insulated barn
Every night he’d turn on the space heater--
a dinky excuse of comfort--
crawl under a pile of blankets atop a straw mattress.
Orion’s Belt crawling over the sky,
he would wake up in shivers
teeth chattering through dry breath;
it would be a matter of turning the heater back on
curling deeper under his wool blankets,
until the scratch lulled him back to sleep.
On a frigid mid-February night,
The heater tipped over,
and as an old barn is wont to do in the dry of winter,
it burned, burned
before Young John’s cousin could awake
to the acrid smell of smoke.
The funeral they held for Young John was finished with an empty casket put into the town’s crypt.
In those few moments before he burned,
Young John remembered being warm.