Bone Thin

A diamondback rattler,

photo by hungrybison

a buzzards’ feast day,
a wasteland of grass.

The body will be where it fell to the earth,
crumpled like old leather,
the place where life ended,
will be marked,
with the stench of the decay.

Hides and tongues for
back east,
that’s gone,
so is the myth,
and the desire.

Stretches of abandoned roads,
on which the snakes sun themselves, are lined with dried up weeds ,
and fences where coyotes are hung by their necks.

Under what was once,

a swatch of blue,
now turned white,
comes the sound of rolling thunder,
the forewarning,
an oncoming storm.

The trailers,
and run down,
bone thin remains of dreamers,
lie in peril.

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1 Comment

Filed under American West, Blood, creative writing, fiction, micro stories, original photography, outlaw poetry, poem

One response to “Bone Thin

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