Superimposed
Stacy W. Dixon

The trees had only to grow
a few more feet,
once the last human
was gone.

Reach over the top
and remind the barn
of its origin,
its tribe.

Those broken walls
never were strong enough
to keep a life within them,
or keep the wild out.

Wood spit out nails
and returned to those
waiting.

They came together
as soon as it was dark
and silent.

Grew untrained,
unwatched,
a new generation.

Their dried-up leaves
and seeds,
a reminder
of their tryst,
on the impenetrable floor.


Stacy W. Dixon loves how the written word connects us through time and place. Her work has appeared in The Mid-America Poetry Review, Tiger’s Eye, Blood Lotus, Pirene’s Fountain, and Sweet Tree Review, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her chapbook collection A Pebble Thrown in Water was published by Tiger’s Eye Press. She lives in Utah with her husband and three sons.


Image Credit: “Trespass” by Suzanne Simmons, first published as part of Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, August 2016

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