Devin Campbell πŸ”ˆ

Read in landscape mode!

redneck shiva, country hole

we lit a fire in the center of the drive
and kept it burning untold days and nights
gathering tinder by fighting the surrounding forest
downing dead trees with our bodyweight and dragging them
with a chain attached to the old four wheeler
neighbors didn’t mind us tearing up and down
the dirt roads and our uncle
the firefighter turned a blind eye to our burning
during the burn ban and grandma didn’t mind
us drinking so long as there were no drunks
in her house so we stayed out there in the dirt
drive from five to sunup most nights just watching
the fire dwindle and we crept back in to shut
curtains and get a few hours rest while she slept
on the daybed in the living room
with her glasses on then we went back out
the night papaw died we built the fire so high
fifteen foot maybe
to light his way up there on his travels
signaling to him in the sky
and we dragged his old urine soaked
la-z-boy out to the embers and it blazed
and it melted and we watched in silence
until its skeleton rested red hot
and alone over the ashes
and days later we were still out there
drinking working sweating
and on our way out of the fugue
we raked our ashes all about the drive
in circle spirals until the dirt
too was just ash

Author Reading

About the Author

Devin Campbell is a poet currently based out of Central Arkansas. They have been published in Towson University’s Grub Street, on the website formerly know as The Nervous Breakdown, and have work forthcoming with Chariot Press. Devin was poetry editor for Grub Street’s 71st print issue.