This poem is part of the special section, “Poems of U.S. History”, reflecting on the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence selected by editors Carolivia Herron, Summer Tate, and Robert Bettmann. You can read more about the section on the Day Eight website here.
5/10/1869 The completion of the Transcontinental Railroad
We only have the names of three:
Ging Cui, Wong Fook, Lee Chao.
In the history books, they just say
“Chinese” and credit the courage
that it took for four tycoons to put
up the capital to give America
her easy miles. For them, the West
may as well have been Jupiter, a
roiling rock to be pounded on from
sunrise to sunset. Yet on half the average
monthly wage, a diet void of fresh
produce or livestock, they forged
the iron roads, driving spikes and
digging tunnels, and when the day
was at its most hot, some exploded
and turned to ghosts. On a promontory
they watched the last spike, made of
the gold that was promised, driven
into the final empty hole. The work
was done, the hammer thrown down,
and they could now be considered
fellow citizens and not celestials.
Jimmy Saekki was born in Seoul, South Korea. An American citizen of
mixed background, he was nomadic from a young age and has lived in over
a dozen places across three continents. He received his tertiary education
in the United States and the United Kingdom. Recent poems have
appeared or are forthcoming in NonBinary Review, The Metaworker,
Metachrosis, Havik, and Dead of Winter IV (Milk & Cake Press).
Featured image “B&H”, illustrator; sketch by Joesph Becker (1841-1910), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
