The dusk of coal

From a Mountain

From a mountain
     on a Thursday evening
            cast in clouds,
A mountain's family blighted in poverty
     huddles in the muddy yard--
            yellowed laundry
    strung to trees the lonely decor.

Water from a rill, muffled,
    (but to the roots in drink),
           flows to the family
    of the haggard house
(Given long ago to the mountain's claim)
By a hose hung above the road,
     Heralding to the different whispered screams
           of four-wheel drives
With faces in the mask of coal.

And the mother's mother's mother
                  piano
hollering out mistimed notes
To the Bartlick Chapel walls
             Is sung to by just the ghosts in the pews.