Her Appalachia

it is said of an ancient golem that plowed the coastline who moved out to Appalachia after her master stopped answering her phone calls who planted the cracking skinfolds of Earth's spiny carapace who fed the birds after Donald Hall's second wife died, and sighed for her by Eagle Pond, who abundantly lifted her ugly roots and carved into the Earth the aqueducts of Rome, and Ramses and there buried their seedlings after who left with my heart and planted it into my wife's bosom and led me by my dreaming waves in tiny reading sections cut out between the buildings of the sky who pines now, in Appalachia feeding the birds and all the world aglow at night