Thursday, April 10, 2008

Salt Flat Grave

Tire tracks cross the salt flat
like stripes on the back of a skunk.
The Polaroid is brittle with sun.

The old man drops the aluminum foil
and puts the gum in his mouth.
He chews to get spit enough to speak.

“Godforsaken, he said this place was.
Couldn’t wait to join the Army.
Then he said that place was just as bad.”

At his feet the sun-glare throws
the shadow of a concrete cross
footed in a foreign desert.

brittle, aluminum foil, polaroid, skunk, salt

--for Poefusion

Collection available! Knocking from Inside


Scott Clawson said...

Simply awesome......what a great poem....I'm still reading it, over and over. I can actually see the old man........thanks for sharing it.

Leigh Lear said...

beautiful, great imagery.

Michelle Johnson said...

My favorite of your poems yet. I could clearly picture the old man and his actions. Wonderful read. How do you do it week after week? Have a nice night.

Greyscale Territory said...

That last stanza is absolute dynamite!


anthonynorth said...

A powerful poem.
Quite excellent.

tumblewords said...

So visual and fully vivid. Love it!

onemorebeliever said...

i can only imagine the heat.... beautiful...