Stonecutter: Poem by Austin Holmes

in the quarry

slabs of cut stone are scattered

like a great many nameless tombstones

the stonecutter is there

he peruses them and crouches 

on his heels at times

to examine more closely 

the various angular shapes

they are not shaped at this location

but rest here like cattle

until transported to adorn the lawn

of some strange desert suburb

the stonecutter removes his hat

brimmed with stain to wipe sweat

with his forearm

he replaces it with head bowed

then stands a moment looking distantly

at the red mesa, or the pale clouds

he abruptly turns and jaggedly walks

slapping dust from his jeans before 

hoisting himself into the truck

after his exit, the quarry remains

like a sand graveyard 

quiet but for the slight wind

rolling the dust like a tongue

to coat the still freshly hewn

multitudes of stone