POEM OF THE DAY BY ABIGAIL BEAUDELLE

DINOSAUR FACTORY



The first time
I saw a grain elevator
chipped-tooth white in the sun
outside Kansas City
I was East -
Coast-Ignorant,
the magnitude of a nation's
hunger presenting itself
like a dinosaur factory,
huge and ungainly in the light.

nearly 160 million acres
plowed under in one generation -
the Flint Hills remain
one of the last bastions of the American Prairie,
too much shale, flint
limestone renders it unworkable
we let it be -
give it national preserve status,
call ourselves conservationists.

Beneath the surface
prehistoric sea creatures
bed down in stone
at the center of our nation.

ii.
Topological landmark in a seabed
state -
the grain elevators
straddle the landscape -
pelvic remnants of biblical giants;

displaced small gods
congregate like
caveblind amphibians
in their shadows, they

remember what the land
was
weep silent
for dying bees -
remember
what the land was
weep silent
for lost butterflies

Buffalo specters
drift past Quicktrip parking lots
their glassine torsos
framing sandwich signs
coffee and glazed donut
$1.95 + tax
raise their heads
at the scent of wheat.


-Abigail Beaudelle