POEMS
Steve Jamison
THAT'S IT,
COALTOWN
In a tent
under the darkness
the girl shouted
the names of horses.
Come on, jockeys, she said,
pull the handle
on the machine
and try to get
the ball in the red light.
She put the money
behind the gold horses
waiting to go
with the winner.
The horse I had won
was sitting on
the ground beside me,
with a small chain
to hold him by.
A red-haired boy
stood near me watching
Coaltown push
to
victory.
