The Nature of Boys at Dawn

After the sawing of the trees, after the cry of wood, after the smell of pine on the dander of skin on the skein of breath, after the flattening of the ground, we buried you in the well, the water dried up for years. We shout down to your corpse and wait for you to call back. Your soul tangled in the weeds of the dusty bottom, we wonder who will join you next, while the lumbering continues, men losing eyes and limbs, a war against our nature. The fires mirrored in our eyes. The screams we save for you.