tower against horizon

blocks view, stands aside

the road. Landmark in flat

featureless plain. Just one

road, endless grass, wheat,

alfalfa. You tap it, guess

material, weight, mass. It

just stands there, erect.


About the author

Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Pulsar, Tessellate, and Scarlet Leaf Review, among others.

Robert Beveridge