Mining country

 

This long sweep of blacktop is more than a road
Snaking under the Downs: it’s the mother lode –
One that I’ve prospected, blasted, mined
Many times, knowing just what I’m going to find:

SPEED.

There are thick, rich veins of miles-per-hour
Running through this country, and I have the power
To dig down deep through layers of pain.
I’ve struck lucky before, and I’ll find it again:

SPEED.

Magnesium sun on skin today:
All the heat I need for this next assay
Of myself: weigh my worth, test my soul’s desire –
Flecks of gold, iron core, and a restless fire.

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3 thoughts on “Mining country

  1. I like what John says. Why shouldn’t there be a competition for poet cyclists? You’d win for sure, Nick. The only rule is that I get to be one of the judges–for the poetry at least. This poem made me smile. The craft is really strong and the conceit makes me smile. Conceit in the original use of the word when discussing poetry, not the modern usage.

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