Where mines stood, there are now many things. One of which is an Amazon fulfilment centre that sits within view of my bedroom window, on the site of the former Barlborough Colliery.
This was one of a number of poems written as part of a poetic conversation with Paul Brookes.
It was published by The Morning Star newspaper in July 2022
Fulfillment Center
After work he
liked to walk the muddy paths
around the lake and up the man-made
hill.
Survey the scene. The sprawling warehouse
where he
earned his pay squatting on land
where once the wheels had spun,
conveyors
rolled and great buckets of black rock
were lifted
from miles below the ground.
Where his dad
and grandad, and his dad before,
had
earned their pay. And he had too,
a flash of time before it was
all cleared
away, cleansed and sanitized. The days
when he was
married, when they worked
in heat and dust, watched each others'
backs.
Now he was just a robot with skin and flesh,
waiting to
be replaced by one that didn't
need to sleep. That wouldn't feel
the wind
at the top of this hill, that had no memories.
One that
fulfilled orders and never needed
to be fulfilled.
Tim Fellows 2020
