The Sand Plant

Pyramids in the Tulsa desert
An iron insect spitting sand.
Shaggy black quarry dog,
stray god of the river,
lopes between the dozers.

The orange trumpet vine is strong
as the limestone boulders
that border the truck scales.
The asphalt driveway, patterned
with escaping sand,
is a threadbare carpet,
the tire tracks like loose thread
in the language of traffic and time.
As we drive over the new bridge,
visit the grocery store,
cruise the highway to home,
the river is both beneath
and above us, though we swim
in its darkness, unaware.
–Shaun Perkins

2 thoughts on “The Sand Plant”

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