Like a pair of aerial railroads,
A crisscross of electric lines.
Blob of transformer, two struts
Crucified against oatmeal sky.
Most frightening, a flag mural
Basted on the slab of a warehouse,
Or whatever that blank structure is.
Less frightening, barbed wire
Aced against the foreground, lanced
Through several competing dimensions.
Fatal, maybe, but honest. The wires—
Electric or barbed—tautened
To holographic perfection
Like staves of music hand—drawn
With grim professional care.
William Doreski lives in Peterborough, New Hampshire, and teaches at Keene State College. His most recent book of poetry is The Suburbs of Atlantis (2013). He has published three critical studies, including Robert Lowell's Shifting Colors. His essays, poetry, fiction, and reviews have appeared in many journals.
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