The Quarry

Poem By Anthony Dawson

The quarry
A dangerous place
Scab on the earth
An operation of take
Never replaced
Transported to a mismatched place

The quarry
Where diesel infects the air
Heavy revs contort the face
Where young children sometimes play
Oblivious to this mixture of danger

The quarry is like a dying face
Where life can no longer forge a place
Where nothing can ever be returned
except the memory of playing there as a child

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