This poem has been a little while in the writing. The idea for it came from a conversation I had with my friend Kate Creatif in which I mentioned the Australian mining town Broken Hill. https://www.aussietowns.com.au/town/broken-hill-nsw
Broken Hill If you drive far enough you will arrive at the Silver City built on eight hundred deaths and promises of riches aplenty. It's the kind of rugged place where opportunity rubs shoulders with a history of malice that at times still smolders. It is a dug up place, a Broken Hill where both earth and souls are rendered asunder and a full pouch of silver brings thrills but is spent before the next day rolls under. Yes, it's a mining town now limping along trading on past renown and a half forgotten union song.