The town lies against
The coal black side of the mountain
As if swept there by music and rain
Squeezed off from the world like a pinched gut
A century or more ago.

Yet it grew like that, full of people,
becoming dressed up crowds.
They have great silent Picasso heads and faces
that stroll through Wal Mart without a clue
while the sky floats outside above the parking lot
so blue , blue you know something more must come to you
out of this blood that seeps and wants its say,
that waits its day, as when some shabby guy you're related to
with strong black hair falling down from under his hat, picks
Up a fiddle at the Muddy Creek Family Reunion,
and with it calls the crowd
together, singing Forever, oh, forever...
Slowly at first, leaning shoulder to shoulder
eyes closed upon the smokey bottoms of the years
warm mouths forming the words
Sweet oh sweet in an abiding connection
among the graveyard decoration,
as if it were quiet ordinary and nothing at all to have your say,
so brilliant and separate here in May.

Copyright © Jo Neace Krause, 2000.  All Rights Reserved.