For James Wright
Michael W. Tyre // Flickr
September 15, 2016
You
write about shyness
the shyness of daylight
along the Ohio River
like a girl brushing her hair
in a boarding house
looking for privacy—
in one of your poems
morning arrives
naked
uncomfortable
shivering in the valley
offering only a glimpse
of herself
to ironworkers
electricians
millwrights
carpenters
for the first time
like a ghost
in the processing lines and mills
of West Virginia and Ohio
Jim—
is it true you died for our sins
who
like the river
and the haze
and the hills
are up
before dawn
looking in the soot
and slag
for the sun