Spencer Linford

Land Use

Beneath the branch bouquets 
of a fenced-in oak,

A bobcat stalks a neon man, 
some exotic bird.
But, there is no threat of death,
Nor of nature’s hunt.

They are neither predators 
nor prey, just actors

in progress’s tragedy.
Were we home before?

Above, a searchlight moon
Flicks on, shining down

Accusatorily on
The construction site.

In this solitary light,
The fenced-in oak weeps,

Sprinkling acorns
Across the razed land below.

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