Atacama
(south of Iquique)
stepping through the ruins
of saltpeter mines:
broken glass
sun-bleached leather shoes
tin cans scattered
over hardened desert floor.
darkened wood crosses
with the names of children
erased
by a century’s worth of
dust devils.
the wood ties of the railbed
long ago removed,
the roofing
of the crumbling adobe
mining camps
also scavenged.
a mountain-sized
horizon of slag pile
monument
hauled up upon itself
by brute force and sweat
the sun drops
behind the
coastal cordillera
and suddenly I am
in bitter cold and
golden light.
the full moon
is due east now.
in darkness
the moon’s halo
is only swirling dust.
--Glen Snyder
No comments:
Post a Comment