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Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Poem-A-Day: Pittsburgh by James Allen Hall

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Pittsburgh

I burn your Highland Park. I acid your Carnegie
car dealerships. Your Squirrel Hill, sheer terror 
in winter. But most of all, I hate your Liberty Avenue,
the last place, one night, I saw my closest friend 
saying, Wait here, outside the after-hours club. I wait,
hating your Strip, half your Shadyside, all of Bloomfield, 
the bluffs and flats where my friend trades himself. 
I wait hours, then trace your Mexican War 
Streets looking for his car, so I could declare a truce 
in the battle he was fighting against himself. Your Hot 
Metal, your Fort Pitt Bridge that leads headfirst 
into the Monongahela. In the morning, he's home. 
He cannot tell me where it hurts. I help him shower 
off the Duquesne residue, the priesting old world 
shame. Pittsburgh, you're all grit and gristle turning crystal
track marks, turning a man meth mouth. I feed him,
put him to bed. I'll keep watch tonight in a cable car 
ascending Mt. Washington, your smokestacks 
blowing clouds over the confluence until all you are, 
Pittsburgh, is a sleepless shimmer I will watch 
diminish down to the savaged seed of morning, 
as impossible to watch as you are to name.

 

 

 

  

Copyright © 2013 by James Allen Hall. Used with permission of the author.  

 

About This Poem
"In Pittsburgh, there are 450 ways to escape, the old joke goes, built on the fact of its many bridges. I once lived there with a friend as he struggled to get sober. He's going to kill himself, I thought, and he is going to make me watch.
 

--James Allen Hall

Most Recent Book by Hall

(University of Arkansas Press, 2008)

 

June 19, 2013

James Allen Hall is the author of Now You're the Enemy (University of Arkansas Press, 2008), which won awards from the Lambda Literary Foundation, the Texas Institute, and the Fellowship of Southern Writers. Hall teaches at Washington College in Maryland.

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