In the Shadows of Pudding Pie Clouds(L Douglas St Ours) IN THE SHADOWS OF PUDDING PIE CLOUDS

The wispy shadows of pudding pie clouds
delicately dappled the hard scrabble land
where the ransacked ruins
concealed zig zagging rabbits
doggedly dodging imaginary eagles
shot from a boiler plate sun,
furry commotions in a dizzy dance
among the pilloried rusted remnants
of weed weary wrecks entangled
and strangled by the heavy metal
of disemboweled oil pans ripped
from the dry dead engines
of broken down diesels.

An abandoned mine,
like a dark cathedral
led by a canary priest
hosted a battalion of bats
with spiked skulls and devilish eyes
hanging from the crucifixion beams
their ugly heads bowed
in worship and shame
praying when not preying
on the fragments that once were houses
roofless shacks fit for cows and lambs
and mangers awaiting saviors.

Back outside
among the decrepit
and the crippled
and the ghosts,
I saw a preschooler play,
in the knee high scrub
she spotted a gopher
in the door of his den
and she gave chase
in a game that had no end
through tumbleweed thicket
we scurried and wondered
were those really
little girl giggles
or the rattle of a copperhead?

by L DOUGLAS ST OURS
July 2010

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