Fence Wire

. . . garroting apple and oak, broken off, no longer keeping
the wild estate;
late spring, northern embroidery; lilies shaped like
trumpets, chalices;
the names are royal: Imperial Crimson, Empress of China;
but deer eat the bulbs, turning from forage, leaping
the humming string set on wire sticks beside the compost
and garden
lined with mothballs, urine, and lantern fires, the abandoned
woods still fill in around the double-wides, as though a
wound