A new poem

Brothers

As Florencio awaits his magic rocket

Floyd Collins watches from 55 feet

beneath Kentucky

a broken electric bulb by his side.

The terracotta miners in China

lay on their sides in the cold dark

eyes wide, staring.

In Sugar Notch, PA

an ancient miner rubs at his tearing eyes,

and can see nothing.

The capsule rises,

it’s odd path

and oblique trajectory suggesting flight.

The miners know better.

This is an earth bound ascension, a

ripping from stone

of what has already been taken.

In Kentucky, Floyd Collins moans.

He reaches out to touch his

electric bulb, it is so cold.

He strains to hear the voice of the lone reporter.

He hears only air and space and stone.

Florencio rises, begins to lift.

There is a hush.

In Kentucky, Floyd looks at Florencio

"Brother", he whispers, through the rock

and the years,

"Florencio, you are our Christ to be reborn!

I, too, was once Christ in the Tomb".

In China, terracotta eyes turn

mutely following.

In Pennsylvania, a miner mouths broken

words falling, cracking,

the scratching dust dark.

Florencio Avalos

ascends to heaven

today

in Copiabo, Chile,

13 October,

2010.

©kathryncollins2011