Long-striped in his lunar night-field
big thickset badger’s underdog
in this day: his fate is sealed.
Roaming once East Warren in the fog
he used to prowl behind these hills
digging up coneys with claw-drills
dustclouds under his tail, grunting
power-shovel with bloodlust hunting.
Now you find him on the verge
as roadkill of the juggernaut
fine-tuned nostrils sunk in asphalt
where three flashing highways merge
a strange two-dimensional corpse
emblem of the natural world’s collapse.