PoetryRepairShop 05.01:003
D.B.COX
There's A Hole In The Sky
down by riverside,
where the cotton mill
once covered the sun.
where is that insatiable,
steel-souled beast
gnawing through cotton and flesh
with the same cold precision?
where is the ubiquitous
clatter and hum
that snaked its way
through spider-cracked windows,
and under closed doors,
eventually embedding itself
so deep, the heart fell in-sync -
with the unrelenting beat?
where are the tired workers,
too young to be so old,
dragged from homes
by the screaming whistle
three shifts a day,
six days a week,
streaming through
revolving, metal gates -
somehow, still willing.
______________________________________
gone...
scattered on the ground...
who could have known,
that the last chapter
of "King Cotton", would be written
with a wrecking ball and crane?
and how long,
the stay-of-execution,
for these temporary survivors?
fading, stucco rows
of now meaningless mill-houses
standing naked and gray,
like tombstones,
in an abandoned graveyard.
there's a hole in the sky,
down by riverside.
Copyright 2005, all rights revert to the poet.
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