Across the road was the land
homesteads mixed farming
in acid air are the animals
clearing their throat, safe

behind the teeth of the dog
each of them servient
to a higher order
only the rooster didn't know that

I grew up at that fringe of the city
and in my absence the farms
have grown to giants
which have eaten the landscape

but they don't have an appetite
for hills and gorges, winding roads
choke them, so they leave
the Hinterland alive