I FOLLOWED JAMES WRIGHT


I.

I followed James Wright to Nicollet Island
from eastern Pennsylvania. Near the lake,
the soil is sand. My neighbor, the woman
who dreams of killing her children, tells me
that all this used to be underwater. And I can see it.

II.

In a town I pass on the interstate,
the American boys pick up guitars.
Hammer-ons and -offs. The sounds of death.
Didn't I already decide not to feel this way?

III.

When John Wayne was born, he was given a woman's name
and he escaped to be Errol Flynn.
Had we been given women's names,
we would have been beaten in the cornstalks
by our cousins.
We were. Work at it, boys. Work will set you free.

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