THE HEARTS NEAR TROUBLESOME CREEK

by Sarah Mackey Kirby

Eastern Kentucky has long been neglected. After recent floods, locals are relying on each other yet again. —CNN, August 9, 2022

beat loss,

beat wood slat rubble,

beat morning Appalachia.

 

It’s patch-up and fix-up

and clean-up and move-on

time again. The mountains

know these folks. The ones

in old boats, still combing

flooded neighborhoods

with their own homes in shambles.

Teachers without classrooms and

workers taking charge throughout the night.

 

Sorting clothes and preparing supply

boxes in shelters. Manning the grills.

Handing out water bottles.

Somehow landing on their feet

 

as they know to do. The coal mine jobs

lost but the sickness those wrought.

The lack of work to replace them.

The stubborn terrain. Two parties that’ve

fought to be the one who gets to use them.

Same generations of neglect. Different name.

Humble people, caricatured through time,

whose character shows despite their pain.

 

Nurses care for patients. Art and music bring

the light. The breeze blows through soaring pines.

And when the world tires and the cameras leave

and the mud dries and the current-event poems

become current only for them, they’ll keep asking

their neighbors, “Y’all need somethin’?”

Talking distinct Eastern Kentucky, offering help.

Saying, “Bless your heart” to those who’ve never

once tried to understand. Picking up what’s left of

family pictures and damaged front porch swings.

Together. Always rebuilding.

Sarah Mackey Kirby grew up in Louisville, Kentucky. She is the author of the poetry collection The Taste of Your Music (Impspired, 2021). Her work appears in Chiron Review, Impspired Magazine, Muddy River Poetry Review, The New Verse News, Ploughshares, Third Wednesday Magazine, and elsewhere. She holds an MA in Teaching and a BA in Political Science from the University of Louisville. She and her husband spend their time in Kentucky and Ohio.

AERIAL VIEW OF CATASTROPHIC FLOODING IN EASTERN KENTUCKY

by Pauletta Hansel

Quicksand, Bulan, Neon, Hiner, Martin, Fisty.

This is our place in Hueysville.

This was my Mother’s house before she passed.

Samantha’s sister’s house is by that blue bridge.

Anyone know anything about Fugate’s Fork Road?

Stringtown, Ajax, Isom, Pinetop, Dwarf.

This is my cousin’s house. 

My Mamaw’s house is on the left.

That bridge is about 8 feet above

where the creek’s supposed to be. 

Isn't this Mary's house?

This is the mouth of our hollow,

the red arrow was our road in.

Nix Branch, Jakes Branch, Trot.

If you zoom in to where the white car hood is,

my home is there.

Rowdy, Wayland, Noble’s Landing Cowan Creek.

OMG that is Pigeon Roost.

Y’all this is my hometown.

This little tree, and God, kept us alive this morning.

My daughter swam with her dog to a neighboring rooftop.

Caney, Possum, Ary, Lost Creek, Hardburly, Trace.

Dad and my nephew are neck deep

they need help

please.

Are you all safe??

We lost the farm animals and 5 cats.

Lost my chainsaws so I can't even work.

Hindman, Buckhorn, Chavis.

You need to understand the nature of the topography.

Add to that strip mining, climate change, political neglect.

Krypton, Garrett, over toward Pound.

Does anyone know about Kite, KY?

We have lost everything

again.

We have warm beds, clothes, and toiletries available.

We have hot showers and food.

Anyone trapped in downtown Whitesburg is welcome to come.

We need help and I'm willing to help anyone

in the same shape we are.

Your prayers are good

but we need to get federal and state assistance ASAP.

Don’t cry for Appalachia, work for change however you can!

Let's use the internet to tell our story.

Thank you for posting.

Much love and many blessings to you all

from what's left.

 

Poet Pauletta Hansel writes “This poem is made up of direct quotes from posts about the devastating flooding in eastern Kentucky. Appalachia tends to hit the news briefly, if at all, during disasters, and is soon forgotten. If you haven’t heard of any of these places, you’d better get on Facebook quick, before we disappear again. Want to help? Go to Appalshop.”

SONG OF THE MOUNTAINTOP, REMOVED

by Peggy Turnbull

Mountaintop Removal Site in Pickering Knob, West Virginia. Image source: iLoveMountains.org

Coal sparkles
where the miner’s lamp hits  
plants wait in darkness
millions of years
transform into sequined shards
burn
become electric

no more easy pillage
no more bolts of velvet
crammed into caverns

thin black ribbons
weave beneath
Appalachian forests
too small to mine underground
too precious to ignore

where clouds hang
between branches
where the mystery
of day unfolds
say good bye
to the tree frog’s song
clear cut these trunks
explode the earth’s crust
let machines like carnivorous insects
rip off the mountain’s head
eat its slender bituminous bed
toss leftovers
into rushing creeks
alongside

a higher intelligence
wills it
for jobs
for corporate wealth
mountains
become flatland
coal
exists no more

Peggy Turnbull has been recently published in Eunoia Review, Rat's Ass Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, and is forthcoming in Muddy River Poetry Review. She made her home in West Virginia for 26 years, but now lives in Wisconsin, where she is a member of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets.

HENSLEY, WEST VIRGINIA

by Ann Malaspina

50 Years Into the War on Poverty, Hardship Hits Back --NY Times, April 20, 2014

The yard is mud
with a rug on the grass
and playset without swings.
There is a stove on the porch,
a bike on the steps,
twin satellite dishes on the tin roof.
I wear my granddad's slippers
and my own jeans
and I tell the dog to jump
for his biscuit
but the cat's hungry, too,
and everyone else
is still asleep.
My long hair swings
when I turn.
The dog barks again.
The sky in the trees
is white like
this is the beginning
or is this the end.
I don't know which.


Ann Malaspina’s "Counting" was published in The New Verse News in 2009.  She is a poet and children's author living in New Jersey.