A rotten egg is cracked against the sky;
nothing
you can see beyond the scrim
of smoke, the glow of furnaces,
the choke.
Can’t tell the chug of the machinery
from barges pushing in another load
of coke.
No delight in things tonight:
the swimming pool; the motor boat; the camper
hitched out back.
No relief.
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.