A rotten egg is cracked against the sky;
you can see beyond the scrim
of smoke, the glow of furnaces,
Can’t tell the chug of the machinery
from barges pushing in another load
No delight in things tonight:
the swimming pool; the motor boat; the camper
hitched out back.
Not even in the shallow water lapping
at the edge of some belief;
The river sweats its tar into baptism.
Listen: dead branches in the current shift.
Feel catfish breathe; feel
the waves ascend.