|Jan/Feb 2016 Poetry|
Artwork by Marie Massey
The pick-up's fenders are sprinkled with
a cinnamon-brown patina of dust.
Orange swatches flicker between
branches in unreadable semaphore.
Ragged clouds of steamy exhalation float
like empty comic strip word balloons.
The pool of vermillion offal soaks the trampled leaves:
a sacrifice to which no god stoops.
Steel pellets riddle tree trunks like
periods at the end of obituary columns.