"The Killin'"

They're gray,
the house, the car,
the flowers in our yard,
all gray.

Sometime after while
the sun'll come up
over the mountains
and slice the dirty fog.

Our noses burn.
Our eyes sting.
At night we cough and wheeze
and a body's hair is never clean.

Yesterday,
Daddy said, “This here killin'
is how we make our livin'.
These dark holes
light the nation.”

We buried him this morning.


First published by Rogue Scholars 2005