What Was Left of Altoona When I Was Born

 
After men cut trees to dirt
and stone, coal was drawn
up tunnels and cast into light
like snakes from winter dens
or the coiled intestines hands pull
from slaughtered pigs.

 

 

 

Allegheny Doxology

 
Far-off thunder follows
the blinking red lights
of wind turbines that ridge
the mountains, blades
orbiting like white
trillium in May.

Children grow dizzy
counting the revolutions,
shadows that kaleidoscope
the valley floor,
a stolen energy
swelling like spring melt
or grapevines
around the trunk
of an oak.

Heat lightning
brightens black
between clouds.
A deep rushing.
Then an even deeper
absence.

 

 

     

Noah DavisNoah Davis is a first-year MFA candidate at Indiana University. His poetry is published or forthcoming in North American Review, The Hollins Critic, Atlanta Review, Water~Stone Review, and Chautauqua, among others. Davis has received Pushcart Prize nominations for poetry from both Poet Lore and Natural Bridge.
 
 

Header photo by WKIDESGN, courtesy Pixabay. Photo of Noah Davis by Marissa Carney.

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