The farmer’s son
led the foal around
the pasture
when the mechanism
depressed under his
bare foot.
I imagine there was sense
of bewilderment:
the face man made
when met with foreign
curiosities.
Things that could only be
comprehended
as a miracle or by magic.
Like the magnets that
moved small trinkets with
invisible hands.
It was then the charge
propelled itself
high enough to meet his waist.
The foal bucked
the rope from
his young owner’s hand.
The boy sighed a brief
parcel of air.
With which a reply came
from a metal hive buried
several decades
before his parents were born.
several hundred pieces
of hibernating
shrapnel.
About the Creator
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