the gold mine on kilvey hill
kilvey hill
in the second quarry
in the warm rock face
a boy’s trepidation stares
deep into the gold mine
(no coal up here)
dripping dripping dripping
running iron red the floor’s coy invite
a few steps only never more
however often he visits
however strong his pal’s bravado prods
‘it’s safe’ ‘been here for years like’
who stooped to dig these innards out
above the sea view piled high
the crumbled rock with its fossils
damming the weeping from the mine
to swamp around a few stones
attracting some hillside life
there is and isn’t a time warp here
but boy longs for the sun
to escape from this quarried scar
on the seaside of the hillside on
the other side from his village
railwayed far away
it’s all too far away now
that wish to have gone in
but that wish still there i guess
and the rusted bravado
the hill’s tears streaming
down to danygraig cemetery
there is a dried-up paddling pool
in a small island park in danygraig
with token flower beds
nodding like the cranes
on the dockside
leaning behind the looking up
back up to the quarries
yesterday was a goldmine
today a nugget of truth
let’s go prospecting again
tomorrow is it
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