February 1 -- B.J. Buckley

MONDRIAN IN MONTANA

He'd be at home
in that scar-sharp stretch of fence
drawing pasture,
in the ache
of boundary: stone
against earth against
post against wire tensioned up

to breaking:
black barbs, red
dirt, yellow grass,
blue
(even the sky) squared
in a measured frame
of vision,
the canvas
snow
or cloud:
transcendent tyranny
of field,
corner,
line.