3-foot blue cannisters of nitro
along a conveyor belt, slow fish
speaking the language of silence.
On the roof, I in my respirator
patching the asbestos gas lines
as big around as the thick waist
of an oak tree. “These here are
the veins of the place, stuff
inside’s the blood.” We work in rain,
heat, snow, sleet. First warm
spring winds up from Ohio, I
pause at the top of the ladder
to take in the wide world reaching
downriver and beyond. Sunlight
dumped on standing and moving
lines of freight cars, new fields
of bright weeds blowing, scoured
valleys, false mountains of coke
and slag. At the ends of sight
a rolling mass of clouds as dark
as money brings the weather in.
(Philip Levine)
More Poetry from Philip Levine:
Philip Levine Poems based on Topics: Nature, Snow, Place, Sense & Perception, Silence, Cars, Language, Weather- Waking In March (Philip Levine Poems)
- The Mercy (Philip Levine Poems)
- House Of Silence (Philip Levine Poems)
- The Rat Of Faith (Philip Levine Poems)
- Small Game (Philip Levine Poems)
- Father (Philip Levine Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Nature Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Place Poems, Silence Poems, Snow Poems, Weather Poems, Cars Poems, Language PoemsBased on Keywords: ohio, dumped, coke, patching, scoured, slag, asbestos, downriver, conveyor, respirator, cannisters