Voices from the Field

SEAMS

                          Down in the mine
where I worked, ore extended 
out in yellow 

                         formations. The ore

was like snakes. Through the blasted
walls you could see

heads      tails      bodies     

of snakes: they may have been alive
from the beginning 
of time. The children

thought it was corn pollen

because of the color. They spread it
with their fingers on our window

sills. They gathered
and scattered it. 

They ate it. 

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