We offered up all the scraps we had:
grocery list, receipts, a toothpick, pocket lint
and bark, but it wasn’t enough for kindling.
Suddenly the cabin was a scavenger hunt –
what had people left behind that we could use?
Where were the broken pencils and thrown-out
packaging? Broken-down boxes and scrap paper?
Why are we so careful to leave nothing behind
in rooms where we still know
others have slept?