Saturday, October 1, 2011



Century-old unmarked graves in a dry coulee.
A man grinds one rock upon another for driveway pebbles.

At a cold window, a doctor's narrow face appears pained
as he scrubs marble-white hands over a clogged, bloody sink.

From outhouses to four-hundred dollar plumbing bills
in just fifty years!  A crazy shrink waits online with salty answers.

A horsewoman comes down the gravel road on an Arabian mare.
The woman's sharp tongue rises up to her drippy nose.

The silence of rock-shattered ancient Indian skulls.
The sun makes a late appearance, trembles... plunges. 

Postscript is included in a Red Shuttleworth collection of poems, Woe to the Land Shadowing (Blue Horse Press, 2015), available from Amazon.

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