by William Bogert
Finally something good was to come out of this damn hole in the ground. Six weeks of hauling ore out, busting rock and crawling around on his belly would finally be rewarded. With a spring in his step at the thought of going home to his wife and baby son, Toy, like all the other Chinese goldmine laborers, walked towards the back of the main shaft of the Granite Hill mine, where the owner told them their wages would be weighed out in gold. The long wire fuses had been rolled out the night before down to the end of the tunnel. As soon as the last of them disappeared into the mine, the foreman hammered down the plunger. Nobody ever gets out on payday.
William Bogert lives and works in the Pacific Northwest. He loves loud motorcycles and reluctantly indulges in the occasional poem here.