the fortress

we have a moat
filled with carp big pike
muskie even to inhale the femoral arteries
of any intruder

we have a wall
steel wheels grumbling and humming
all night, bright spot lights shining out
the false prophets who should dare
propose a method or a madness

we have that glass factory
smashing vitreous pannels
discarded angles to be reconstrued as a liver cask
exporting to hither and thither
zephers on the ground sparkling and sharpening

we have that rail
a volcano passive and beneath the crust active
one accident away from krakatoa no-joke-ah
coal dust smoke coat
a tonic for periodic table laced alveoli

we had a history
clovers donkeys and the kings daughters brung
together a missive of a grand economy
tannin and oak leaves left livid fingers
raw and seven digits prosper

we have the point
being solid on foundations of prisms
the whole earths a beacon and the skys the lemons
with black snow falling upon the eppaulettes of
the french insurgent general, scrawling excuses on
the people's last properties