In Colorado
Mountains looked like movie sets
And you floated in a salt pool
That felt like forever
Till your tiny cuts stung.
Driving was senseless
When everything around
Was cut out of paper.
Dramatic red cliffs
With edges so jagged
They peeled back your eyes.
Pit stop in a tiny town,
All wild-haired tourists
And an antique train.
It took you through mines
Where you saw your black heart
Refracted
Through stones.
Left a piece of yourself there,
A lump of coal
To haunt the earth
On your behalf.
Pausing on your way back home.
Taking tea in
An empty store,
With cakes cut lacy,
Layered rose,
Garden amidst a cropless land.
- © Shannon Cuthbert 2020
Shannon Cuthbert is a writer and artist living in Brooklyn. Her poems have appeared in Gingerbread House, Chronogram, and Enchanted Conversation, among others. Her work is forthcoming in The Writers' Cafe Magazine, Call Me [Brackets], Liquid Imagination, and The Orchards Poetry Journal.
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