Saturday, October 9, 2010

Husbandry on Neck Creek (Revision)

Penance
The undernourished mare
dies beside my car
on the Sabbath. 

The cancerous hound
cannot be buried
in clay iced over. 

In winter the creek is
no place for old pets.


Spring
In terrifying thorny cases,
thistle grows with purple
spring blooms in great patches
no sweat or toil brings to bear. 

The sight of ivy and sumac
recalls the itch on my arms.

Ancient hedera pollutes water:
animals no longer drink
or embrace with impunity.


Revelation
Young boys lust for fire,
a pile of gasoline and a bic
to take care of it all. 

They would steal
and scorch an acre by the creek,
swing from vines and land bellyup
in leavings of cattle from upstream
and be lucky to survive the depth.


Fall
Marked for defeat, unable
to convince scorched earth
to yield, the labor
of husbandry never ends.

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