Treasure Island

Christian Wiman

(1966 / Texas / United States)

Rhymes For A Watertower


A town so flat a grave's a hill,
A dusk the color of beer.
A row of schooldesks shadows fill,
A row of houses near.

A courthouse spreading to its lawn,
A bank clock's lingering heat.
A gleam of storefronts not quite gone,
A courthouse in the street.

A different element, almost,
A dry creek brimming black.
A fight to lure the darkness close,
A light to keep it back.

A time so still a heart's a sound,
A moon the color of skin.
A pumpjack bowing to the ground,
Again, again, again.

Submitted: Monday, July 21, 2014
Edited: Monday, July 21, 2014

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