THE LOCKOUT

       THE LOCKOUT       TIM WILLIAMS APRIL 2014

MRS. WILLIAMS ( CABBAGE ) CLOSING THE CHAPEL DOOR
ON A SPACE WHERE THE MICE ARE LOUDER THAN
THE DECAYING, DWINDLING CONGREGATION,
HER WARM DROPPED TEARS ARE AS LOST AS
RAIN UPON A VIOLENT SEA.

HER APPEARANCE AS DISMAL AS A MOLTING BLACKBIRD,
HIS BRAIN AS SOFT AS DAMP CHIMNEY SOOT.
HE LOOKS OLDER AND MORE WISSENED BY DAYLIGHT.
A MINERS LOCKOUT DOES THAT TO THE
STRONGEST OF MEN, AND THEIR FAMILIES.

AT NIGHT SHE COULD WORRY THE COAT OFF THE DOG,
AS SHE WIPES AWAY TEARS OF DESOLATION, AND
WATCHES HER HUSBANDS SHUFFLING SHADOW, WHO'S
FACE BY DAY REFLECTED IN THE CRACKED MIRROR IS
AS COLD AS THE MOON HE SAY'S " THERE ARE NO HOPS IN THE CHAPELS PINT OF GLORY ".

HE SPEAKS THE WELSH LANGUAGE LIKE A BOOK, WITH
A HEAD FULL OF SPIRIT HOUNDS DANCING A JIG
ON THE MINE OWNERS RAINPROOF COFFIN , FANCY HANDLED,
IN A HOLE FILLED WITH COLLIERS SWEAT AND BLOOD,
AND THE ROTTING CARCAS OF HIS FAMILIES PRIDE.

MRS WILLIAMS CABBAGE, CABBAGE BECAUSE SHE
GREW AND SOLD THEM FOR A " LITTLE EXTRA ",
FEELING IN HER MIND BODY AND SOUL AS IF
SHE HAS BEEN IN THIS STRUGGLE SINCE BEFOR
GOD LEFT FOOTPRINTS ON THIS EARTH.

THE STEAM RISES FROM THE HOT GOSPELLERS POCKET,
SHE CLOSES THE DOOR, SHE SAY'S " SOMETIMES YOU WIN, 
SOMETIMES YOU LOSE, BUT I WONT DIE FOR YOU NO MORE.