On the coarse brown hide of the mountain over its rolling tongue of the road we drive to the mouth of this carcass piled above us, in its shadow. Far into the vertebraed distance the stubbled skin lies in plains. Where we see water, it is an open eye dead to the sun, and when we look up the sun is its crawling maggot. Only that a foot leans upon a pedal sees us out of the cemetery of this body, dead from before the time we were swamp. Rubber, oil and steel die beneath us for our deliverance, and where trees dress the impoverished sky, our eyes open again within our burying selves. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES TO A MOVEMENT IN MOZART'S E-FLAT SYMPHONY by THOMAS HARDY THE YOUTH WITH RED-GOLD HAIR by EDITH SITWELL AN EPITAPH, ON A FOOLISH BOASTER by PHILIP AYRES THE FESTUBERT SHRINE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN EMILE ZOLA by MARJORIE W. BRACHLOW SONNETS OF SEVEN CITIES: PITTSBURGH by BERTON BRALEY |