La Fin Sauvage

by John Zedolik                                                         

Wild is the roof
atop which reach
the unwanted spindly
stalks and irregular leaves

to an evening deepening
to night that will obliterate
their serrated silhouettes
and grant safety from discerning

eyes that might influence
a call for taming, a cutting
for the cutters upon the seam
of sky and constructed earth,

bold and instinctive on their edge,
left better to occasional sighting
by unconcerned souls who deem
the ridge, the ragged row welcome

wilderness needed among the docile
and down-combed brick-blocks
that certainly would frown up
if they could at the fringe that their

absolute politesse impedes
with wisps and licks that refuse
to lie flat and servile
as the lawns below.