Borderline

by Paul Ilechko

A shower of needles     each one wet
                                      each one with
                   a drop      a gram      a grain
                   (or some such)
                   a milliliter

Power lines stretched across
                   above wet fields

Adjustments made
           as terrain is bifurcated
           but borders evolve as much as
                          are defined
           the world is not a map

The power of place is existential

Power is a transient force    it ebbs and flows
                   respecting the seasonal

The air above the border smells of coastline
      smells electric in the dying light.