The ocean built the town,
built the factory,
wave after wave lapping
the shores like a child
begging for candy,
a few more hours of daylight,
the chance to live forever, to be forgiven.
The old man left the factory
with the first brick,
the old ridges of his hands
deep enough for particles of rock
to collect, to stain the edges
with the smell of smoke,
cold winters,
the old jokes.
Then came the wrecking ball,
a dreamlike sequence of long strides
through thick, heavy air
beating the length
of an aged, crumbling wall
where a man pulled out
a loose brick to find a stash of smokes,
a loyal embrace,
unswerving
like a stone.
But.
Even the ocean rips what it cradles.
Funny, as I was just using this same analogy of a wave, giving and taking back. Of course, here you have fleshed it out beautifully, telling a story along the way with personally sublime images.
ReplyDeleteThe child begging candy, the last old man, the first brick - all so beautifully embossed onto the landscape you have drawn! We like circles, don't we now! Very nice.
I admire how this elegy pays tribute to a passing era -- to "starting over" -- by presenting two different scales: the long-term, vast natural force of the ocean, and the lifespan of a single man. The omniscient narrator establishes authority. The loyal old man is like a last noble warrior. The ocean is the rise & fall of entire civilizations. The poem has a sense of sweeping history, personalized through many specific details.
ReplyDelete