Rock, Paper, Owl

Through repetition the pasture’s silences coalesce into estrangement.
A green leather strip between my teeth grows back a body.
It is early dark in the room of cages, where once we spoke of shank and hock.
At light-break we eat tangerines and intuit names of all the trees’ parts.
Pin it back, I ask, that part of me devoid of thingness.
Pin it back, tied to the post, where I twist and turn to lattice for the climbers.