1862
I received the sad intelligence
Of Juliet’s demise.
That sweet good girl now peaceful sleeps,
At rest in Paradise.
We lay last night in Snickers Gap,
Endured a foul brass band.
Midst sharps and flats, I wrote to Jane;
My friends and I shook hands.
We hope that we shall meet again
As victors on the field.
Without a faith in God above
What thorns this life would yield.
Our cavalcade has halted
In a meadow by a stream.
Two drovers work to drown a mule.
We listen to it scream.
[from Chestnut Ridge, a verse history]
This is beautiful, sad, authentic-- is it yours? xj
ReplyDeleteYes, it is part of a verse history I've been slowly writing about the coal-mining region of southwestern Pennsylvania. Thanks for reading it.
ReplyDeleteI hear Emily Dickinson chanting in the background...
ReplyDeleteThe sharp, whiplash-like last few lines are remarkable, btw.
Beautiful, Dawn. I imagined the poem being sung around a fire. Devastating last line.
ReplyDeleteI'm so happy you all like this piece. I felt like I was being channeled by a ghost voice when I wrote it.
ReplyDelete