PRIOR
Brian Kubarycz
Behind the amber glass of this
quondam farmer's abandoneds,
no more great flames: just flickers—
of cigarillos, waves, brain.
Kittens so far from clawed
their paws are sofa, bare
emblems of my own home-stealth;
they followed me, used-to-be
familiars but now wanderers-off.
I shall meander too. Among
the grain, I shall lie beside barbs,
wrap myself in wire. Fence shall fly
from post that day, knowing
no nail, enraptured and flapping,
billowing, in praise of winds, touching
softly, down, where I lick my feline feet.