Rails blistered by age and
rust
Sweat and thirst hidden in cracks,
splitting
lumber bolted down with gasps
for
air, blinding sun paid for
with
broken spirits and aces up bosses
sleeves.
Mildewed tents, dysentery in
drinking
water ladles, dripping much as
rain
off picks and shovels, faces
hardened
Hands calloused from ethnic
ranking
Backs branded by grimaced
looks.
Constant digging, like holes to hell
On
leads to prevent workers from falling
into
pits, hot air same as heat in drafty
tenement
buildings, tenement camps… nomads
in
search of greener grass on other side of the
tracks.
Random diseases ran through canvas
and
rope, much as a stray, rabid animal
Immigrants
rattling nondenominational crosses
to
ward them off, nonetheless, fever and
blisters
ensued, like landlords pounding on old
doors.
Ailments, starvation and death washed
over
ethnicity as floods of tics, sucking
the
life out of them… for each railroad
tie
laid, a whole or part of their existence
lay
beneath in a grave, a spike, the
headstone.
Copyright © 05/13/2014 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®
The poem is profound & brings to life the images of the trials & tribulations of building a rail system but also the occurrences of the sufferings endured. Time passes and the “old” rail remains to bring remembrance’s of a time long ago. Excellent Writing!
Barbara, so appreciative of your thoughts and words – always a joy to read your comments! Thank you!