Wednesday, August 18, 2010

1047. TRULY I FORGET

TRULY I FORGET
Those brutal waves of wash between the
walls of Hebron and the sea, they make
me think of something faraway. Paracelsus
and all that ancient science, perhaps but not.
The fenceline, single like a dog, wires its
funny way along the ridge and soil. It
knows to twist and turn, but that's alone
the hand that placed its doing, and does it
keep things in or out? Truly I forget.

No comments: