we went there to find whiteness
after the long shadow of black walls,
coal mines too deep to breathe
nose holes always darkened and our hair
a thick soot of heavy strands
but the sidewalks only appeared white
at first viewing, fine blood stains faded,
urine bordered the cracks, and black leathered
ladies lingered in cement and our style
of friendly greeting brought narrowed
eyes and lips lifted in contempt
I told Harrison we were never meant
to leave the mines, but he loved women
and the acute colors flashing
a straight way dance to his desires
but I couldn't remember mine
for trying to survive all that noise
and the bone rack waste of humanity
blissful with a needle or a rock
I told Harrison we were out of place
as the fifth story walk up rattled
and bodies filled every empty space
as some man punched a girl named Sabrina
and I slam slapped his face
but all she said was Hillbilly boy,
get back to your milk and hay
the trains rattled all night and into the day
and we fought parasites and misfits
and we stayed at the loading dock till late
and emptied trucks when they backed in
standing in a concrete cubicle black
with exhaust fumes and rubbing our eyes at
the burn, and you stayed there, live there
still, but I feel this world is black
in some spots and only sunny on those rare days
that I respect myself and Sunday.
Phibby Venable
is an Appalachian poet and writer. Her work appears in numerous anthologies, magazines, journals, and ezines, nationally and internationally, including: Southern Ocean Review, Clinch Mountain Review, Poetrybay, the Appalachian Review, 2River, the Sow's Ear Review, and the Circle Magazine. She has three chapbooks, On White Top, Indian Wind Song, and What I Saw Beautiful. Two full collections, Blue Cold Morning, and Blue Water Poems, are available at Amazon. She lives in the Appalachian mountains of Southwest, Virginia, in the small historical town of Abingdon.