Silver Mine

they have reopened
the old silver mine
at Indian Falls
and set a long-horned Sybil
to stand guard

the lone cafe where
everyone wheezes
over braille cakes
the three white
monarch bars

the nitrogen mallard eyes
peering out from
the squat box houses
along the cliff

the hotel with the miners drill
mounted on the lawn–
a quilted silence like a
a poison sofa

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