ghosts of engine blood, engine fire
rows of roots huddle in brown drawn
fields. the grain sieved from straw,
no hunger is forestalled--each dawn
is made of dust. scatter their skulls, these
bones of old industry & fold skeleton tractors
beneath a crested sun, a rusting barn roof.
smoke sings of death by drought, a burn ban
issued in a land of ashes,
winged seeds & a tar black feather ball.
nothing begat barren land.