All poems © Barron Sawyer. All rights reserved.
Shower Fire
today I perform act of group devotion
the Chore for its goal: the simplest of potions
hunt for sticks, chop Blue Oak
wield my ax, aim then stroke
crack crack crack, a ritual drumming
while light rain falls wicked, numbing
gather the soggy wooden nest
to special Tank I haul this mess
large cauldron formed of rusted tin
hollowed out to heat within
tinder laid and newspaper’s stuffed
for ancient pyrogenic craft
prepped to burn, to render the fuel
for magic art, not black nor cruel
flame now lit, chimney smoking,
off to sports, return for stoking
in deep Valley with night quickly falling,
rescue from November’s chill is calling
practice concludes, our herd heads home
then to the humid Cabin roam
with towels and soap and razor blades
meet for the sacred steam I’ve made
mud, sweat, aches, some painful feelings
twelve friends expect a liquid healing
The Rumble
Stuffed inside my one-room cabin,
Secret plan about to happen.
In dark quiet excitement flows,
‘Twas this night that we chose.
Twelve of us but they just two,
Odds too good to be true?
Their shadows seen behind the curtain,
Our prefects’ check-in route is certain.
First stop will be cabin six—
Judgement for their frequent tricks.
The bell resounds—its ten o’clock,
We’re freshmen wolves! No more a flock.
The trap is lay, our muscles flex,
Prepped to give lacrosse checks.
A change is heard. Their knock is fainter…
Not this scene first do they enter…
An empty room they must have burst…
They know we hide, they’ll do their worst!
“Stay here guys, our strength is numbers.
Remain together, defend these chambers.”
Long minutes pass…room’s a sauna,
Nervous warriors, newfound drama.
Outta sight, omniscience theirs,
Not this fear in nightmares.
Wild footsteps, beasts approaching,
(Ironic tale now unfolding).
Fun’ling through the cabin’s entrance,
Whole senior class: reinforcements.
Men with beards! And soccer-sock whips!
Our strongest guy squeaks, “Abandon ship!”
They fling our bodies and squash our pride,
This band of brothers humilifed.
Sent to bed, extra morning chores…
Wiser next year, we’ll be sophomores.
