Far Away From Chemical Valley Poem by Francie Lynch

Far Away From Chemical Valley



I live in Chemical Valley.
It sounds horrible:
Better you than me, perhaps.
I grew up here,
Where the southern sky burns
Bloodstone red,
Mixing colours with the evening suns.
The St. Clair carries Huron's ghostly fog horns
Past the flaring refinery candles,
To Detroit's waters.
We have stop signs
And other amenities
Small cities are proud to maintain.
I heard the housing market
Is sustained on the divorce rate,
And not the petro-chemical industry;
We're closing another high school next year;
And there was a gruesome woodlot-rape/murder
Last week on the Reserve.
Maniacs living out some sick web-site.
But the soccer pitches are full,
And our Mayor is the longest serving one in Canada.
Just around the corner
(everything is just around the corner) ,
Our flag flies over the bones of our second Prime Minister,
(he's from Edinburgh, Scotland):
I've walked a good stretch of the fifty miles
Of beach we have running north,
Past cottages, parks, camps, etc.
We've way too many pot-holes;
And for many years,
We were featured on the ten dollar bill.

But the new houses!
Who is buying them as we move eastward,
Away from the lake and river?
Newly minted single moms;
Rejected men.
We lived in one house,
Once,
One house.
We now occupy five.
Two of which
Are too far away
From Chemical Valley.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: alienation,children,city,isolation,life
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Francie Lynch

Francie Lynch

Monaghan, Ireland
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