Death by Modern Day
Like a cat moved across country
I make my way home
Pulled by instinct to a Montana
prairie town where I appear
on the porch of a cabin
Curl up with a Border Collie
and a cat named Damn
My worldly wounds licked
until something inside squeezes
And the city cuts close
A haven taken for granted
Bear Paw Mountain beauty
over bleak plains
Brushed in a plein-air painting
that blends into the wall of my mind
I expected equal permanency
from the 700 population
Guaranteed by tradition since
pioneer grandparents handed down
homesteads to chosen children
Leaving leftover siblings
to relocate in other locales
Community vital signs strong before
drought disease weakened its pulse
When the price of grain fell
but rain or snow didn’t
And wheat field fever ravaged
a five year epidemic
Where dead deer paint
a pessimistic plein-air
And bloated bees dehydrate
beside deserted hives
My hometown headed for the same fate
with fifty-some houses for sale
Gas station, drug store
and coffee shop dried up
Evaporated by environmental mandates
and occupation evacuation
Rest home regulated out of existence
And local bank consumed
by corporate cancer
That eats away at farms
in foreclosure affliction
Until nothing survives except
hollow houses and inhabited graves
Ghost memories that
haunt my plein-air painting
And helplessness that bleeds
heavier than city lacerations
Previously published in Montana Voices
Author’s note: This was written before Big Sandy Activities came and revived Big Sandy’s economy.
