Is that bark
Still recovering
From a half
Decade's winter ago
When I hiked
To your barren lumber shed
And skinned that
Neighboring tree
For something dry
To turn to flame
The History: I loved a man in the Kentucky winter. That winter he left me alone for days. No food, a floridian in a mountain shack, with a wood burning stove and no kindling. I found myself in 10°, short shorts, with an open wound the size of a football between my *** cheeks, in calf high snow, stripping the bark from the trees for something to create warmth.