Fencing

FENCING

He strung a line from the corners

of his belief, staked each post deep 

enough, then checked it with a level 

before dropping to his knees

to pull back the loose dirt

and pack it with a rubber mallet. 

The red bucket of Quikrete 

looked on, dusting in the shed. 

“I’ve found it the best way of being 

here” he said, “making clear what’s out 

from what’s in, but it’s light men 

who need cement to hold them 

down, to blame their boundaries

on.” He stood by his post

until a firm shake convinced him 

it would both withstand the elements 

and unearth intact—whole,

and without an axe—come

the requisite reconfiguration.