Fladry

Fladry: a line of rope mounted along the top of a fence, from
which are suspended strips of fabric or colored flags that will flap
in a breeze, intended to deter wolves from crossing the fence-line.

USDA National Wildlife Research Center

I am weak and edible. Some human quality

stays weird, alien to the wild, outsiders,

bad sport with spooky habits not just fladry—

other enchantments against order, house paint,

yard art, border fences and the tunnels under borders,

the amen, the wedding ring, the flavored condom.

The wolves are back. I've seen them, seen the fladry

ranchers tie, red flags' flutter to puzzle or annoy,

folk-work tendered back from wood-shadow,

more each year, abjured with clover.

What I like most about the first shot of bourbon

is how it feels like letting go of a grudge.

In the dream, I kill my friend and bury him

lime in the church basement between sump pump

and broken fireplace. On my knees I tile

red stone back to mosaic. Soldiers beat me up

and called me names in my own language,

this one, the one Whitman used to soothe

the dying, limbless, the bleeding, the infected.

Beat me with fists slight more stone

than the shape that holds this pencil.

A house is held together by shapes.

And yet in the ongoing negotiations between

the world where I hold my son and

famine, bombings, hate, prosperity—

two notes, octaves apart

attenuate what's hidden inside your body

to the invisible. It might help remembering

shadows and not hours. Infinity

also has the contour of a children's game.

Infants remember fladry, safe in the car seat grasping,

grasping. Some forces are enormous and move

against you, and when you pretend they aren't

there, surge. Some swing on a hinge

which at night sounds like don't look back,

don't look back. Anyone can tie fladry.

See it out riding. I go out at French-horn dawn,

boots in mud, string fladry at intervals,

each tongue labeling the field, calling

beyond language. And if fladry bears

the conditions of a spell, redness of the flag,

the measure between them, it's flapping

which charms the wolf away, for a term.

Warnings to keep the flock from the wolf's belly.

Messages for ourselves. See it from there,

turn overall and plaid flannel; we would

tear our own fur to cross these lines.

Source: Run the Red Lights