>wire slipping gently
in the grooves of his crook’d fingers
the dynamite slides slowly
down the well shaft

under the oaks among the tansy
number three has been drying out
now it’s only a trickle
and brackish

we stand beside the half-ton
and feel the silent shattering
through our feet

the dappled tangle of forest
draws us to the moment
and in the stillness
we have felt the earth move
just a little