Legend
The mine drowned the holler,
many reallocated
to trailer parks along the Interstate.
The school dwindled,
ran out of children
became a garage for dead trucks,
then a beer barn, then a Meth lab,
bubbling feuds resurfaced -
shotguns aimed at open secrets.
Oxycontin mules crisscrossed cricks.
After the sheriff left with a bag of money
the missing went unreported.
The ‘Craft’
(a legend as ancient as flint arrowheads),
emerged from clapboard covens
ginseng and moonshine were sacrificed
for white powder.
Glocks flourished among the Hummel’s.
Traditions persisted
like red paint on wooden signs.
An outbreak of opaque cottage industries,
led to skins inked with blood oaths.
Old women retreated into the mountains
with their recipes.
Spirals of distant smoke
rose from iron cooking pots,
no one spoke of the children.
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