How Would It Be? - by Gerald Stern

How would it be at my age to burn some land
between a Chinese willow and a white mulberry?

What would I do with the smoke
that blows first toward the television wires

and then reverses itself to curl some flowers
still hanging from the dwarf apple?

Couldn't my love be in that fire, wouldn't she
just adore those ashes, wouldn't she just love to stir

a stick in that dust, and wouldn't she love to dream
of another birth and another conversion?

Couldn't she get on her knees? Couldn't she also
smear her face with dirt? Couldn't she explode?