Red Cliff, Colorado

I can walk among the gravestones here,
And see my name one hundred times:
My father, uncles, and their parents,
Cousins, some of them have died, the
Babies and the ill, the suicides, all
In the earth together, on this bluff
Above a town which crushes those
Who are not strong. The air is thin.
It's always cold. The mines may open.
Then, they'll close, and life will dangle
On a thread, the ones who ride it
Swinging, reaching for a bit more
Alcohol, another gun, another bullet.
Something here will have to die, a deer,
An elk, a cousin. I won't know until
I see the offal or the gravestone when
I walk among them all another time.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 71 times
Written on 2015-08-08 at 00:31

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text