Overburden

My heart is heavy.

 

I marvel at this

rock of ages, eternity even

strip mined

for what’s stuck beneath

the surface.

 

All this runoff

just so I could,

baring it all

and laying it to waste

water, tears a by-product

of a cold coal

carbon-copy

of once-living

matter

stratified plants,

and these dinosaur’s bones

as layer

upon stinking layer,

the fecal fecundity

of fickle feelings

fossilized:

compacted

impacted

though it seems

as if it doesn’t

matter,

and we may not see

the error of our ways

for years to come.

 

The hardness,

burning hot and dirty

so close to beauty

can’t see

for buried too deep.

 

Time and pressure,

like Superman,

taken in his hands

to make a diamond

out of me.

Hillsong

They’ve given the business

to my mother’s favorite hill,

just off Little Plum Run Road.

 

Once:

a cascading glade,

the kind you’d see

in those old movies

couples, bounding

in slow motion

abounding

in endless love.

 

Banners agitate

waving the crests of

Science

and

Progress

white knights

mounting

their noble steeds

in the name of domestic independence.

These star-crossed

lovers of yore

(or at the very least a stanza before)

lost, the flames from the rigs

blotting out the night,

targets of this endless

economic war.

 

Taken up arms

taking aim

the birds and the bees

hooded robins

unsure anymore

of when to sing in spring

our faltering flags

the white fields of surrender

choked

with the soot

of a cleaner,

more “natural” gas.

 

Enjoying the view

from your ivory towers

thousands of feet above

while our view nine hundred feet below

as they dug

our fracking graves

one well at a time

beneath the surface,

much too far for our protests

to be heard

let alone do any harm.