Ghost Town

this small valley, in a sea of
sunburnt straw, once held homes
hope staked out against the elements
sheltered from the ceaseless wind

now the remains, littered with bitterness
decay while cattle trample the yards
glass eyes stare up from the half-eaten
Hutchinson & West (un)mounted trophy

a woman, the lone guardian of paradise lost
rambles forward, a moving mountain of flesh
deposited by the crushing solitude
she too once loved, now forgotten, discarded