HIGH DESERT BILLBOARD

BY GARRETT ROWLAN

Message worn by time and weather to white,

mottled with flecks of black birdshot, promise

peeled, painted skin of an old advertisement.

It stands off the highway, abandoned like some

tattered drive-in screens, vanished with my youth.

High in the desert air, this ragged rectangle

forms an archeology I can understand,

and a religion, rugose and rugged,

raised on its rickety structure,

fragile as a fanatic’s prayer,

hoisted against a vast sky,

and fading as I drive on by.