A Ciara Shuttleworth photograph
Shapes of the Stricken
My debut as a gnarled, twisted
dead sagebrush is down the line.
Federal authorities won't bother
to look into my dedication to earth.
Cattle trucks will roll past,
horsemen rich from in-kind donations
will spit Red Man juice in my direction,
and my appearance on a postcard
will coincide with friends making
the most of it with anthology appearances.