Those two quiet buffalo who stoodso close to the electric fence I couldalmost push my hand throughthe loose wires and touch them.How they refused to move or sawno point in moving, even as the trafficstreamed by on the interstateand the sun beat down on their heads.Chewing a tuft of alfalfa, bowed headto bowed head, flies crawling outof their ears. How easy it was to seebeauty in the dry fields beyond them.The way they possessed the circumferencecompletely, ignoring the Cesenasand cattle cars riddled with holes,the calico horse in the next field over.And how, in their large eyes fadedto lacquer, to something you paintover knots on a barn, I could seemy own face in the amber reflection,shiny and miniature, watching mewatching them watching me backthrough the audible hum of the line.
Kai…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, March/April 2025