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On the Partial Collapse of the Akzo Salt
Mine in New York State
Our day has dimmed; our dreams gone back to sleep.
You own the world of light, since Fate is just,
Though salt in black caves melts; stalactites weep.
We were the Seneca; our bones will keep
Filling your windowsills with blowing dust,
Our day has dimmed; our dreams gone back to sleep.
Near Torture Tree a sinkhole opens up.
What gnaws beneath your feet is ocean crust,
Where salt in black caves melts, stalactites weep.
Lagoons once rippled here; a sea waist-deep
Laid down its precious brine. In salt you trust,
Until day dies and dreams fall fast asleep.
Deep in the earth, the ancient waters seep
Into the mine's cathedral. Bubbles burst
Where salt in black caves melts, stalactites weep.
Your wells run dry. Your rivers shrivel up.
Your blood, like ours, will lay a vein of rust
When day grows dim, your dreams go back to asleep,
As salt in black caves melts, stalactites weep.
—Frances Ruhlen McConnel
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