Noah Siela

Well Water

Whirr, whirr the Heartland’s

being mowed up by wind turbines.

Then, a kid chasing, I opened my shin to the bone

on the ball hitch of dad’s truck braking

and bled back to the house.

S’pose you saw the heavy-arcing horizon

of your childhood get flat straining

to influence fate

and you became an even bigger animal of pathos,

head in your hands while the bones of small birds