Dry Coulee: 3
Don't sun-glance, not through smoke,
even with blue-tint Oakley lenses...
a dim past --gray ceramic pioneer figurines--
rides a smoke-snake against rock.
You step from the car with the Wolfhound
for a bite of charred air, The coulees
have acquired a rough black collar.
A deer gasps across a gravel road...
lurches into a drought-fringe of bunch grass,
stumbles on fire-charred scree, looks back.
Dry Coulee: 3 is included in a Red Shuttleworth collection of poems, Woe to the Land Shadowing (Blue Horse Press, 2015), available from Amazon.