Cut Rough

Cut Rough

He has cut an outline rough and shattered

Amid winter ice

Rickracked and shark-toothed

He may now be a storm cloud dotting the wastewater

No solider than any other, and more alone

He reflects on this from the ditch in which he lies

Fallen but not blind

The unseen current drains the heavens

Of dirt-grey harbingers that gather, strengthening

He feels drunk and riding on the flatbed of a truck

And knows he may not move again

He and his assailant cried together

Walked the highway’s sloping verge

And when his eyes were raised he saw

A balding scalp, above the plastic strap

And wondered idly could a marksman hit

that space fleshed out behind the hunter’s cap

Fancy stole upon him, seconded by a warning thought

And when his eyes were lowered

He saw still green the roadside clover

And black the crumbling asphalt

Her hands balance the steering wheel

Why suppose the glass won’t crack

Lulled insensible and then

The common drive becomes departure

That hailstones could fall so thick

So disobedient to nature

Surrendering when there is no more to be done

Dum-dum

(2016, Stephanie Foster)