Headlights

fall on the early morning’s frozen rigs
               and a rabbit
               we can’t catch as it springs into the grass.
A cigarette toss could set
               flame to the plains
               and restart the growth,
uncovering pieces of the others,
               graves, pottery and plow,
a modern pyre at once
               distant and close
to those who came before.
               But watch the sunrise,
               the falling light
               of Venus.
               It’s almost
time for the call,
               Lauds, a prayer
to the past
               that churns through
               in refrain.

---

Tyler Truman Julian lives in Wyoming, where he writes, edits, and teaches. He received his MFA in fiction from New Mexico State University and now serves as Review Editor for The Shore. He is the author of Wyoming: The Next Question to Ask (to Answer) (Finishing Line Press, 2019), from which work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. His work has been published in Barren Magazine, Tupelo Quarterly, South Dakota Review, EcoTheo Review, and other journals. For more information, visit his website: tylertrumanjulian.com.