The fence in the woods
Has finally fallen,
Propped all this time by
The sinewed remains of
Honeysuckled deer bones,
Single mistimed leaps
Where, twisting, twisting,
The leg at last is liberated
And the carcass molders to
Apatite and phosphate,
Bowled into the lap of soil.
Have you followed these fences
Too? Rusted intent, its barbed
Wire poised to puncture actual
Air. Run your palm along its
Flaking length, gentle spasms
Of corrosion. Our eyelids twitch
Sometimes with the same tender
Entropy. Potassium. Nitrogen,
Fixed from the pregnant breath
Of exhaled leaves, fecund,
Each footstep breathing sighs.
Hungry jellied mouths
Orangely supping, conical
Fungi where the farmer mis-
Skinned the bark from the post,
And lichen pulps the locust.
Push, and it yields—the crescent
Earth gasping plain surprise.
Hydrogen. Sulphur. Nothing
Much pondered during
The building of fences,
Where the digging iron
Strikes stones, quartz-
Veined limestone, fissile shale
Slick with micas, throwing
Bright sparks extinguished
The instant they ignite. Friable,
Such afternoons squandered—
The trunks subsuming wire,
Dutifully swallowing it whole,
Straightening dappled light
Into inconsolable lines
Divided, willful calumny.
