Etching

They
left on trains. Now

Air glows amber over
Rusting artifacts of the civil,
Silent on the ground.

Orange and pale blue
Light weakens behind
Sooted buildings and stacks
Punching a bruised, bubbled sky,
Doubled over.

Fires,
Peeling off the shoulder
Of the hill, now hiss, crack and jeer
This town.
Etched in graphite.


9/20/88