Kate Schapira



Barbel, ferrule and a sting
across the river bottom those two
Thursdays we had snow

I don't want to be an alarmist. All I'm saying
is, it doesn't have quite the ring
as rallying cries go. It has been recently discovered

The emphasis is where it's supposed to be.
It has been recently discovered that the Lyme-bearing
tick thrives in stretches of five
acres or less,

a surprisingly Victorian plot,

due to the lack of predators for its
favorite host in woods that size.

You may draw your own serum from this. It's
not a compromise, it's marked by white-out,
match head, needle point and still embedded.
It is, however, hunched

and difficult to gouge out the idea—"dislodge"
is not enough. As the area of one
increases so the other shrinks, be it rash
or underbrush with plastic bags in it.
Or saleable, which has taken the place.

An instrument of fishing in the lip, a
parable, a twinge put down to climate. At least partly
a home found of its own, soon without

another side to pull from. Flesh
become my flesh. I will hunt you
down with every possible spear.



It's all in here: new research by biologists and epidemiologists shows a direct link when we humans try to control and manipulate without knowing what and why. What are we going to do with this news? Tear down the five-acre stretches? "We've got a landfill and a golf course. That's our mountain and that's our field." —Jennifer Heetner, Cedarhurst, NY