MISSING

[Cousin Kil]

Minor edit...

The hearth sat
crooked. It's pitted I like "pitted"
stony face rested heavily
on grimy soot covering Is the soot covering the hearth or the hearth covering the soot?
rotted wooden planking. To me, "wooden" sounds weird there when I read it out loud. Perhaps "wood" might sound better.
The last surviving ember
surrendered to cold ash. There's a nice little foreshadow there

Opposite the hearth,
sat a splintered rocker.
Utilitarian but well built, Like WJames said, I don't find much of a contradiction between the two
it stood firm against the dead I like that you break there, and then the following consonance of "weight, while"
weight, while it's knotted
creaking feet sheltered the floor
from decay and drops of crimson.

A wooden door defending
breathless freinds from icy friends
swirling fog that surrounded
the cabin had just recently
lost the war.

Footsteps and screams faded into the black.

Hey QD,

I think my disappointment with this piece is its reveal. I wish you held out until the end and gave us a final puzzle piece in the last line. Instead we find out about the murder (I'm assuming its homicide) in the second stanza, with a hint at it in the first ("cold ash"). A sinking feeling in my stomach and/or a shiver down my spine is what I so desperately want to squeeze out of this, but as of now I'm just not receiving that.
Your last line is also kind of vague, and I can't quite picture who might be foot-stepping and whose screaming. Who's doing this? Where are they in relation to the cabin? The door's gone (right?), are they outside or inside it? I'm not saying you have to detail everybody's exact motion, or every little thing, all I mean is that presently no clear image comes to mind and I'm not all together sure what's happened. As a result, the final line doesn't hit hard and makes the piece somewhat forgettable.
If you adjusted it so that the killing is made evident at the final line, with subtle detail in the body to point to this murder upon closer inspection, I think there would be a great "oh shit" moment here. Maybe that's not what you want, but just an idea.

This potential for a spine-chilling turn in the story reminds me of a couple short stories. I know this is a poetry forum, but they're too cool not to mention. The Man Who Loved Flowers by Stephen King (which you're probably more familiar with) and Time and Again by Breece D'J Pancake. They're both some of my favorite stories, check 'em out if you're interested.

All in all, this is a good piece, I just really want to like it more. Apologize if I hit a little hard for Mild.

Thanks for the read,
Cousin