Thorny iron
thicket, copper eyes
of welded birds and dragonflies
speared on stands, railings
wound with curlicues and spiked
with fleur-de-lys. A rusted human figure
hangs from the fence like an escapee.
In the workshop, shapes of still machines.
The sun is setting. Steel lilies warp
and shudder into bloom, stems twisting
in the day’s last cast of fire.
