cold porch lights chase me thirty miles per hour downhill to the Ohio past bison in greasy fields old company town hollow filled by skinny creek run full of yellow dog seeps out back behind a mine store slumped sick grasping some wet glyphs left by cold sweat drinks nicks dug into worn wood counters that clattered scrip collectible yet worthless punched through the heart when folks walked in out of the woods out of the fields between the coal seams within the pale sold lives for pay bought some comfort for a short while got shut back out when portals closed deep roots yanked from ripped up earth big dishes on roofs above empty ones on tables will we ever learn the fortunes held in farms? do we ever get very far above our raising before they beat us back down to the ground? About the author: Chad Burrall was born and raised in Wheeling, and comes from ancestors going back to the Wetzels, Bonnets, McCrearys, and Coffields of Big Wheeling Creek. He recently placed in several categories in the WV Writers Contest, has been published in several poetry anthologies. He can usually be found enjoying some of Wheeling’s great local songwriters or fly fishing as remote a stream as he can currently get away with… Chad is currently working on his first full length book of poems and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Editor’s Note: This editor met Chad at the July 13 (Grateful) Dead and Company concert. Are you interested in contributing to Weelunk? Please email us at email@example.com. Image provided by wikiart – Vincent Van Gough’s “Country Road” Share this:Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYou must be logged in to post a comment.