Scarab, hall,

ancient swamps.

A girl with dark eyes

raises her child

in the trees, second growth,

giving shade.

The railroad has passed,

the Wabash line, the post office

and store of Oaktown,

history she doesn’t know.

The box and lumber mill

have passed, crates for eggs

made from black gum

and cottonwood, steam on bolts

of wood for a day or a half,

then spun to a knife

for veneer, the waste

used to fire the boilers, also

history unknown.

The tupelo swamp

presents a frieze.  The gods

of Thebes walk in the hypostyle hall,

cypress in the wetlands

of the Cache, world

of the glacial Ohio.

A girl with dark eyes

raises her child

in second growth, emerald

and already old.