Between Planks

Not pouring concrete, not fitting
dug hole with 4x4 cedar post
or to that securing 8' stretches
of unpainted pickets, not alone
as much anymore + how
what one suffered through
loses teeth in memory, goes rosy, not
sure what color we'll paint the fence
nor that we'll paint it at all, not
without consideration for
the maples and oaks that stand
within view of where the fence will
+ if they'll feel like cows kept
as pets at the meat market
we don't patronize enough
because moo, because oink,
because we don't hit up speciality stores
not because we're not specialists
but because we want to carry
everything in the same flimsy
plastic, the toothpaste and
hotdog buns and habaneros
we buy the tiniest ones we can find
because we're pale northerners +
our mouths were for centuries home
to little spicier than fire-side stories
of warmer months and now
not sure if Jay-Z or the tigerlillies
just outside this window
would fit here, the former
in my ears rapping about his
99 problems not many of which
I'd imagine we share + the latter
swaying loosely at the walkway's
edge finally offering themselves
finally having made homes in
the holes I stuck each in back be
fore the season began casting
my long shadow in front of me
+ I had to look at everything
covered in a darkness I carry
around causing.
(0,0)
Weston Cutter
Cutter_cover

(0,0)

Weston Cutter

Floating Wolf Quarterly Cover_wolf