Strange Plateau Poem by nathan martin

strange picture frames lie on the scorched
earth of the barren plateau, crooked and jagged..

to strange for her bucket of watercolors.
to obscure for pastel horizons to rupture in light.

no ressurection of the multi-colored aquatic bow.
no dispersed water molecules ever form in the
sky of the strange plateau.

she standing there like a solitary arcane thistle,
disturbs little the vascular tissues and rivets
of the dry grass.

the crumbling tableland streches out for
miles in its bleached open expanse.

it seems to her to be disected by very old hands.

she reachs out to hold them and once again she
is daughter, mother, and sister to the blood red
dry earth, child to the hardened corrosive mantle.

the sun overhead shivering in its sleeve fathers her
for a time. in the high plains of the strange plateau
her soul grew so happy, though her body never
was found..