The curious have curled the chain-link
back from the post. Lovely under dusk,
the field has a half-life
longer than the Ice Age. Cold stones burn
their shapes into the earth,
chatter warnings to be heard long after we’re gone.
The order to clean the buried
waste was approved,
but the men are years away.
Tonight, a black dog chases a rabbit
through burdock. A creek sneaks
under the fence, into the woods.
The roots of naked trees drink ashes.
Kip Knott is a past contributor to Eunoia Review. His writing has recently appeared in The American Journal of Poetry, The Ekphrastic Review, and Halfway Down the Stairs. His full-length book of poetry, Tragedy, Ecstasy, Doom, and so on, is forthcoming later this year from Kelsay Books. More of his work can be accessed at https://www.kipknott.com.