By: Dixon Hearne

Steel mummies rust in scattered heaps
as if tossed by pitchfork—
littering the desert floor,
changing shape with light and shadow
and imagination.
Debris. History. Art.
A child’s roadside guessing game,
chards and nuances of some former world
worn tired and frail.
Abandoned to the elements,
a diorama,
a place,
a time—
and transitory.

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Dixon Hearne writes in the American South. His work has been twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize. His latest book is Plainspeak: New and Selected Poems. His work has been anthologized in Texas Review Press’s Southern Poetry Anthology: Louisiana and Down to the Dark River (Louisiana Literature Press). Other poetry appears in New Plains Review, Poetry South, Tulane Review, Weber: The Contemporary West, Big Muddy, and elsewhere. He is working on a new poetry collection.