Issue 3:1 | Featured Artist | Jon Hounshell
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Relics Revisited
Somehow they’ve dragged them off
Leaving behind their open graves
Where they had been resting
Gnarled, bent, but happily resting,
Under trees growing faster
Than their decay.
While the earth rose to meet
Their twisted frames,
They were all hauled away
Leaving toothless landscapes
Like vacant beds,
Where impacted earth
Tells its love affair
With the upheaval of two tons of steel.
Past times I’ve robbed their tombs
Leaving behind their gaping mouths
Where there had been some jewel,
Curved chrome, and strikingly brilliant:
Victorias, Ramblers, Bel Aires, DeVilles,
Like names on East Hill
Where, in the golden evening,
The last refuge of fleeting light
Retreats to higher ground.
Hence, I climbed East Hill
Chasing the sun
As it caressed the rise
On its way down.
And, I stayed up there
Among the dead
Until touching a tombstone
Warm from the sun
Urged me to see
I finally felt I was invading.
August 3, 1998
