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| Emigrating the Fiefdom a sonnet by Dave Payne, Sr. |
From Hell's cold, desolate heart cometh, Legions of serfs who like blind mules slave For King Coal and his loyal vassals. At quitting time, the lowly emerge on the sun-bleached surface, Their eyes blinded, blinking, burning, bleeding as Black sweat trickles down their dirty faces. They think not of the old men whose shriveled lungs try to belch, Hack up the very same stuff that killed the canaries years ago. But for their children, they say a silent prayer on busted knees For the mountains to part, a pass to open for young refugees Emigrating the fiefdom. But the only road that seems to be Open for even their brightest minds is a well-worn trail, A downward spiral into the abysm. Originally appeared in Appalachian Heritage magazine. |
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| Last edited 02/14/01 |