Split

People keep comparing what's up now to the Civil War. I've been writing some stuff about the Civil War for a while now.

A Photograph of the Company

Quite altered--yes, yes, I see
You find me so, I know,
The needle and thread that draws the clothing in,
That pinches the skin. And hidden
In the folds, this image, imprinted--

The line of those once loved. Their hands raised,
As if to fling at me a sentence of exile,
Shock after shock, how many a body can bear,
I believe I know, but cannot tell – that last betrayal,
The gesture like a wind waved away my breath
And now I cannot gather myself. I am lost again.

Arms brown and pale, thick and kindling-thin,
Split rails propped and woven for a fence
That keeps them free of me. All kin,
Yes, they are kin, arms raised to keep me
From getting in. Brothers and sisters in arms.
Sky icehouse-gray, dawn or dusk,
Which is which. The treeline on the ridge.