Black wood cook stove
Lit with kindling;
In the corner of the house;
Warm dry heat;
Smutting up throughout;
Smell of char and cedar;
Just obstacle to the toddler
Reaching for wants.
Seared flesh.
Confusing pain.
Just her arm, not her face.
No scars remain.
The stove long gone.
Cold lonesome house
still smells of smoke.