Silk Road

 The 千里¹ concrete ribbon slashes the Gobi,

a stale cliché whose 皕公尺² pullouts double as rest stops sans picnic tables,
but where still-damp tissues mound amply in crevices,

white cumuli cocooning empty bottles tossed haphazardly
by the wind fanning the coals of a smoldering ashcan,

while the selfsame wind,
on the steel strings crossing the ranks of high-voltage towers,
strums a dirge for the lost camel trains.

15/16 September 2016
Poem and photographs © Aaron M. Ellison, all rights reserved

¹Read: qiān lĭ (idiomatically: a long distance, lit: 1000 miles or 500 km)
²Read: bì gōng chĭ (200 meters)