Others within

Others within

Karin Spitfire

there is a wounded animal inside, drowning
chased from her home by creatures who build strangleholds stopping the river
others, down stream, flip flop in the mud
can no longer reach their breeding grounds.

where there were dry oak, low bush blueberry, rhododendron, voles, coons,
where there was mountain,
now the decapitated underside of the earths’ flayed skin
weeping arsenic.

inside there is a slow shy turtle
with a plastic six pack holder around her neck.
a pod of whales herding fish
scoop up mouthfuls of ziplock baggies.

where there were prairies,
bison, vegetation to eat
now great square ponds of poison water, putrid air,
gargantuan drills piercing the earth.

another wild one just comes down from the mountain
lives in the reedy swampy place behind the big y, k mart and the middle class houses
crosses the main street with three cubs, forages in trash cans.
she and her babies are a problem.

inside, the fierce memory of old Titans
who can climb down the bean stalk
crush the swollen spewing moguls
rescue the throngs of harrowed beings born in tent cities.

inside a wild animal birthed into a GI bill house
survived that cage, launched into the white free world to fend for herself
found others with weeping sores built enclaves carved out space avoided authority spat/healed clawed/healed sang/healed breathed/healed gathered with others fought shook spoke stood.

turned around to see the pollution and destruction of her family,
wounded hordes from microbe to mountaintop from gene pool to tide pool
and the fracking fires

fodder

there is an animal inside so nearly inconsolable
grateful, for now, to live where wild is enough to lick anguish, recalibrate breath
but the automatons come again or maybe it is just man and a tranq gun
who with all good intentions wants to mark her, count her numbers to see if she lives.