Kevin Nigel Watson

when a boy loves a girl
as much as Appalachia
he makes a cairn
for lack
he turns away he runs
that he might not see
when it tumbles eventually down
a passing deer knocks it over looking for salt
two hands find the pieces
new fingers make wretched
his delicate work
they take his spot
they chase him deeper into the trees
panting
he leans against a maple
he closes his eyes
the bark on his cheek
he forgets
at every juncture is a cairn unmade