Native, by Keetje Kuipers

It’s true…nothing is untouched anymore…how do we define native? Wild?

 

Native

In the spring the men come out again to clear

the land, yellow Cat dozers popping up on hillsides

like morels to be collected after the first warm days

of May. In fields studded with the rhinestone glitter

of purple knapweed, trucks nose aside whatever lingers

too long in the path: stones laid down by a glacier’s

swollen body, a rain-washed pair of child’s underwear,

white-spangled fawn fresh from the belly of before-this-world.

Untouched? No such thing. Scoured clean and dirtied up again, laid

to rest only to have the soil peeled back from the jaw bone.

What hasn’t been repopulated by trespassers, colonized

from the inside out? No wonder my body wants to do

the work it was always meant to, spiraling deep within itself

to make from this wildness something that belongs here.

– KEETJE KUIPERS

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: