| Flames Denise Dee |
The flame from the mill looks like an Olympic torch held high we struggle to keep our heads up in this neighborhood of workers we're barely holding onto houses, food, jobs I see a commercial in the breakroom at the supermarket where I now work i have finally joined the long line of women in my family who stood at work all day carrying plates, buckets, curlers, combs, dye, knives, forks, napkins, plates the commercial says 'Bush's steel plan is working' and something about unfair competition from other countries to call the number on the screen to keep the program going i don't even watch tv at home but here in the breakroom at the supermarket it drones on and my coworkers talk of 'the stories' and i smile because that's what they called soap operas in Pittsburgh i don't have a pen to write down a number of Bush's steel program i can be fired for stealing anything from the company and that includes going home with a pen so I don't dare put one in my pocket the tv blares like one from another decade and i watch this city try not to slip any further behind the hospital down the street is closing no one goes anymore to live or die there the church bells used to ring one time for each year of a persons life when they died in a room there they don't do that anymore but I can still see the steel mills flame when I stand in front of the hospital life goes on in strange ways openings and closings are rampant here they're putting in a dollar store next to the new clinic next to the grocery store a customer in line tells me that the store i stand working in is closing within a year I'm happy at the thought of collecting unemployment |
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