get angry there is no field
by Quinn Rennerfeldt
in no field, there can be no horse
grazing on no wildrye or wheatgrass,
no yarrow teeming with no ladybugs,
no bubbling cumulonimbus in no
baby-blue sky, no pinkish afternoon
or angry dawn, no small roadside
stand selling no bunches of native
flowers, no bitterroot, no prairie
cornflower, no daughter manning
the family business for no tourists,
no lone hackberry tree amidst the thatch
of no grasses in the distance eliciting
no mystery of how it came to be
there, or how one might not reach it,
because there are no feet with which
to close no distance, and so no one.
This poem first appeared in Salamander.
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