Former Automotive Plant
       

What poor moon deserves this night,
drab corset of grief.

I know there's a harmonica
somewhere, some chicken

feathers and cord grass that might hold
the dark apart from the body.

But tonight the twilight tethers its husk
to October's horizon and bears down, until even here

at the edge of this concrete field,
epic maze of rust and chain link,

there is nowhere to go
that isn't slowly subtracting its ache,

each long white hour,
from decades of unribboning.

Copyright © 2009 Allison Titus All rights reserved
from Sum of Every Lost Ship
Cleveland State University Poetry Center
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission