in that realm, a man of straw
can pass for a man. sleep him
in the woods on a horse’s skull—skull
so he dreams of echoes, horse so his heart
learns to gallop. unlearn him the language
of his starving mother, pull his shoulders back,
and he’ll swagger. he’ll see a blooming meadow and think,
build. he’ll put scythe to stalk. touch him, marry him, happily
ever after him—and now the story begins
unraveling. wasn’t the logic bound to fail
somewhere? and wasn’t it always going
to be here? leave him in a field
to protect what grows. shift him nightly
so the starlings believe. don’t pity
what’s only straw.