Wind walks sad shocked bones
tossed as though Lot's wife had thrown the
before the earth spine bowed to stone.
Wind flutes tumbleweeds, seeds too dry to
and the stories lie fallow to their touch
but two thrushes brush notes
over the long uneasy sleep.
Vertebrae articulate angles too oblique to
the hide long gone but knuckles remain
in dried up washes top soiled.
Cars hop the sky road Kremling
to Utah's east shore
but the names burrow back in
words whispered thunder and clouds
rained fire down in the name
rained this wasteland once green
raptors and rapture were one with brontosaurus
bogged down in his own killing pond.
Tyrannosaurus tongues dusty flesh
ossified eons of buttes align
rest stops and rabbits brush the sweet grass
stones bones big as axles
we see them crawling
giant scaled scorpions.
Copyright 2000, Jo Nelson
Jo Nelson teaches creative writing at Tacoma Community College, Gig
Harbor and workshops at writers' conferences. Her book A Taste
of Light will be published this summer by the Font Shop in New Haven,
CT, and a chapbook this winter by Pudding House Press.