Colby Cotton

From hydro-fracked waters and sold-off land. From fist print in plaster walls, skinned hand and scraped knee. From flame-lit palms on burning barrels and blown-out tires, copper wire and strung-up doe. From spark plugs and driveshafts and wooden dollies. From trash fires blown to life: came my sun-driven body from the trailer parks to fields to factories. Came my body risen like brushfire in ragweed. Where the hazed breath of steer burned off the yards, and all my teeth loosened. I woke in the pale flame of myself at the edge of the slaughterhouses. My body built into its furnace.