Poetry: A Rusted Juxtaposition

She loves rust.

 

She is fascinated

By the juxtaposition

Of enduring strength

And conquered vulnerability

Contained inside a rusted can

That lies, forgotten, in desert bushes.

Or a barrel

Gunshot, like a movie prop

Red against the yellow-gray mountain.

Train tracks never fully laid

Leading ghosts across the desert.

The roofs of abandoned houses with sheet metal walls

Sagging but still standing, alone

As highway cars speed by.

 

Just think how old they have to be.

Just think how strong they have to be.

 

She laughs at the chemists

Who propose to demote rust

To the simple oxidation of iron

In the presence of water.

How can they be blind

To the magic

Of that burning red?

 

Just think of the years

That have crawled past these sun-burnt sentries.

Just imagine the stories

Scarred upon their rusted skin.

from the Eureka Mine in Death Valley, CA