the extinction of wales
the castellation of words
from hillside to estuary
old voices seep in their turning
and in turning view the inside of
the keep behind a visitor’s portcullis
the lilt of a song’s memorabilia
their caste resides in the stones’ history
coal-faced and furnaced
slate-rained in the shining
of a valley’s smile
these are the seams of coal’s tapestry
red-thread with the blood of water-damp
collapsed
along with the iron works
the coal tattoos and canned scars
wales now
a mountain of theme parks
with no parking allowed
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