Not even fiddling,
but feeding the fire
branch by branch, tree
by ancient tree. Bristlecone,
panania, red wood, chestnut,
black ash, whitebark pine. All
wisdom gone, frack by fractured
frack that cracks the earth for
molten cash. No time to Birnam
north, no time to heal those Permian
wounds that weep and flare
into the air that bathes our breath
in ash. We’ve doubled down,
restocked the pile that feeds
the flames that drive the heat
that burns the world around us
while we sleep.
“The acquisition of Pioneer Natural Resources, Exxon’s largest since its merger with Mobil in 1999, is a bet that U.S. energy policy will not move against fossil fuels in a major way. We’re doubling down on our organizations and capabilities,” said Darren Woods, Exxon’s chief executive.” (October 11, 2023, The New York Times)
This poem first appeared in Prairie Fire (2024).
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Nancy Huggett is a settler descendant who writes, lives, and caregives on the unceded Territory of the Anishinaabe Algonquin Nation (Ottawa, Canada). Find her work in American Literary Review, Passages North, Poetry Northwest, and The New Quarterly. She’s won some awards (2024 RBC-PEN Canada New Voices Award) and a gazillion rejections. She keeps writing.
