Air

In the smudged silos,
a slipshod grain hungry and unfilling.

The fields here do not even
feed their own.

On the crotchety mountain,
emigres weave stories of
the old cruelty of the thin, dry air,
new cruelty of elevated antiseptic oxygen.

Between a one and a two,
a child is born with four feet.

The cry of a lone lantern in
the nefarious night.