West Virginia

December 14, 2017

West Virginia

                         When the sun set, in West Virginia.
They thought I was crazy; when they burnt down the pieces that held you at bay.
They said I've lost my mind; so they came…
All adorned in West and roses: They stormed the walls, bejeweling your beautiful home.
They took you apart, in your fragile state: They said you gave hope, where hope doth not reside.
All along, I stood by and watched, as they stumped over you;
In their jackboots and weathered jackets: Gathering pieces after pieces of your gentle bod.
Burning sheets after sheets, of your immortal lines:
Yet I stood aloof as your pleasant flecks taint the air; and the peaceful night wafts up in smoke.
For they rejected your virtue; they mocked your beauty, they peeled off your skin;
Layers after layers, till there was nothing left, but shriveled bones, and empty lines.
Right there, on six street, in Mother Virginia, they took my soul, they killed my poetry.
                                          So when the hour of morning came;
                                          I told them I have one more rodeo yet.
                                           I won’t lay down like a limping horse.
                                     And let them hang my beloved “Anabelle Lee”.
                                          For Edgar lay awake in his empty tomb…
                                        And Williams still morns his love anew…
So I gathered all my tools of trade, one in my jacket, the other in my trousers
All the hours I spent, hovering by this table, tending to your fragile frame.
Flooded my mind; so I took the table too, and the shiny chairs
I went up through the chimney; like Santa at the birth of Christ
I let them witness another rebirth; as I carefully arranged my loyal companion
The ones that had served us through our years. Before they clipped off your wings
And burnt you like a swamp witch at the stake.
I sat on the very edge, with the wind in my hair.
And gave leave, to this poor flesh, that had become my skin.
For I know when I sleep tonight, it will be the last.
Till I wake up in your arms, while your cologne picks away at my senses.
Tonight, the folks will tell the tale of the wind and her deranged passenger;
While they sing to the Mountain mamma:
“All my memories; Gather round her.
Miner's lady; stranger to blue waters.
Dark and dusty; painted on the sky.
Missed the taste of moonshine;
Teardrops in my eyes.