Maggie Elaine was born
to die when the cottonwood
weathered the ground with its seed.
Her blue eyes spoke of the sea,
but she never traveled beyond
the echo of the mountains of West Virginia.
Appalachia hummed through her veins
in a coal song of father and brothers
grinding out a living in pix axe swings.
Set in a trap of rainbow dreams
she was an easy catch for a traveling man
who fed her promises while robbing her innocence.
He left telling her he would return
just as soon as his pockets where lined with green
and winter surrendered to the call of a robin.
Nine months of believing a lie birthed a baby girl
on a sunny April day when the cottonwood wind
called Maggie Elaine to her grave in the shadows of a blue mountain ridge.
©Susie Clevenger 2013