The Always Broken Plates of Mountains
by Rose McLarney
paper, 80 pages, $15.95
The sows are in heat, squealing and pink.
The wild boar comes from the forest
to batter at their pen.
I go out and smash the ice
on the trough. The water
breaks free. This takes
a pick ax. Wielding it, I feel wild.
But the only strength in this story
is the fences'. Not even boars are wild -
imported for hunting a hundred years ago,
crossing the sea in a rich man's crate.
When I hang up the pick ax
it freezes to the nail, clinging as I do,
making my living elsewhere and
returning to farms after sunset,
the barns symbols
just discernable in the dark.