Racket Ann E. Michael
The woodpecker tries to dismantle the house.
Barred black and white, one ounce
of bird, small enough to sleep in a human hand,
batters eaves, cornerboards, cedar siding, and
drills the forest, reconstituted as 2 x 6s, board-
&-batten, beam, joist, frame. Pocks posts, tears
into tons of wood, seeking nest holes, shelter,
grubs, insects, exposed cocoons and larvae.
Why not take apart the house, one neat little hole
at a time, to architectural origins? Ontology of the whole
house: forest, where the downy can rattle roof trusses,
wake the family dog, establish the dominion (over us)
of the tiny, remove the looming, linear obstacle of habitat
mite by mite and bit by bit. Make use of it.