Porches
In southeastern Ohio there are porches,
one to a hill, that lean into the calm
like the decks of ships too long, too far out.
The coal is gone and the children have nothing to say.
And in the leftover towns the men fall asleep in their hands.
And the women stand on the porches in the evening
inside the deep eye of the sun,
listening for some kind of wind,
fixed utterly in any direction.
__________________
Stanley Plumly
Collected Poems
edited by David Baker & Michael Collier
Norton 2025
Elizabeth Stevenson
