Michael Petshaft


Common Thieves

I am a fire in the woods
Heating thieves who stole "Arbeit Macht Frei"
Listening with my flickering ears
To their tale

History means nothing
When it can be unscrewed and torn asunder
With my orange teeth and blue fingers
I eat and snap wood

“Work Sets You Free,” they laughed
I roar but they do not run out of the Pisz Forest
But laze and cackle about my flaming breath
When I finish my work I will be gone

My heat will leave their hustling bones
When they must cash in or run cold and hungry
With my last nose of cinder
I smell iron drag across fresh dead leaves

I am a TV Director working in Connecticut for an ABC News Affiliate.

(author retains copyright)