you'd left behind, lifting their skirts gentle
against their legs --- Ravenna, Elyria, Vandalia
dark-haired beauties who fling their hair
like girls do when the weather up & shifts.
In Mingo Junction, spring will happen
easily. The first warm night hangs
on the eaves of the dancehall, drops
down to the wooden floorboards, settles
in the avocado vinyl of the front porch swing.
You met a girl here once
in the days when the land rolled back
& fields of coal bloomed forth & glistened.
Everyone was rich for a little while.
She played the jukebox for you here
one shiny night in April, curled her cool hand
around your fist, danced slow with you.
She said, I found a starfish once in Florida.
Dresses stuck to girls' skins differently back then.
It wasn't all laid bare.
All the way from here to Newfoundland, the ripbop
on the car radio carries you, rises
like an ether, blue & faint on the road.
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by Lucie Brock-Broido
