Building Barbed Wire
by Kenneth Hada

    Building barbed wire -- still bent and bowed at sundown --
    an existential thing for any cowboy.

    Tapping staples solemnly in the bosom
    of a corner post -- grounded in good known earth.

    The boy embraces his beautiful pole and
    carefully adorns her with a wire necklace.

    He stretches her tenderly, drawing her taut
    unto himself, until they are together.

    Splashing leftover water from a plastic
    jug to satisfy a grateful upturned face,

    Pissing in the open pasture -- his field,
    his place -- nothing really feels better,

    Glancing over a stooped and sun-burned shoulder
    he reassures a tenuous homeward walk.

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