A half a year of fire
and I am the kind of adult
who gets her chimney swept in May
Who am I
To own a chimney
To make enough fires
That I’ve taken out buckets of swept ash
and scattered them in the woods
I am also the kind of adult
Who uses a broken hair dryer
for years, three, maybe longer
The plug, falling apart, exposed
I never would have fixed it
So yesterday my mom
hands me a box
unprompted
A new one
Because what kind of twenty-eight year old
Who owns a chimney
And arranges to have it cleaned
Lives in daily danger
Of death by hairdryer
With Love,
Natalie