monongahela

green-brown waters
splashing past the new marina
the very spot the old coal barges
used to dock in another life

the blooming mill is rust now
split up and deported across the world
like a shattered family
lost in the new age

tin lunch boxes roam the streets
of south side
past the galleries and coffeehouses
searching questioning
rationalizing
some see only chaos
some see only promise

black soot from the past digs deep
into the granite along carson street
‘a gift to the people’
the river watches laughs weeps
as it ripples across our bare feet
awakening tomorrow

--- e b bortz

(published in Voices of a Wanderer, 1993)