The Dust Bowl

The names and their faces
those times and their places,
the rundown rail depot
from where the last westbound left
in that dry-cracked goodbye summer
when water was heaven
and wells coughed their
grinding choking echo,
dust for a future
that had yet to be;
In those places and their times
heavy inked portraiture faces
made indistinguishable by
careless careworn thumb and fingers
of the ones chosen to
witness their passing,
so that records were kept
for whoever would come after
to research rediscover
those times and their places,
shrouded names and their faces
down by the rail depot
in that dry-cracked summer
when the westbound whistled its goodbye.

2 thoughts on “The Dust Bowl

  1. VijayNair

    An excellent,cinematic remembrance of an’economic crisis’–one is reminded of Steinbeck’s ”The Grapes of Wrath.”

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *