They told me it was bottomless,
And I believed because its skin
Shone black on starful nights,
Reflected nothing to heaven.
When I was baptized in it,
A part of me knew God couldn’t see.
No fish or snakes swam its deeps,
Yet when I dared that water
I felt innumerable nibbles.
That vast hole was left by coal
Miners when my father ran young.
He’d swum those very currents,
Endured those dark movements
Beneath his dangling feet.
He first showed me its coolness
One August day after hauling hay;
We washed away the straw and dust
Until dusk floated in on the wind.
The coal from here burned long ago,
Heated homes or steamed a turbine.
The miners moved on, and my father’s town
Melted into insignificance.
Even my father left, for labor and family.
Only a few stayed, and today
Their grandchildren float those black waves,
Eyes flying through great swaths of stars,
The empty water heavy beneath their backs.
Excellent! One of my favorites of the project so far..
ReplyDeleteThanks, Paul. I liked this one, too. Strangely, I was half-asleep when I wrote it and was in a "Oh, Hell, I have to write a poem" mood. You never know, do you?
ReplyDelete