30 March 2009 | Vol. 9, No. 1
Letter to Youngstown
The 2 a.m. train keeps whistling
a name in vain. The blueprint
for my next-to-last scar closes her green eyes
in the first passenger car. In between murders,
the night sighs with rain. I keep thinking,
when I should be weeping. A plastic bag tangled
in the low shrubs. A grocery cart alone
in the parking lot. Close and closer—
I recognize the beauty now: one streetlight
interrupting the compound darkness.
About the author:
Fritz Ward's poems have appeared in more than fifty journals, including American Arts and Commentary, AGNI, Blackbird, Salt Hill, No Tell Motel, and DIAGRAM. He holds an MFA in creative writing from the University of North Carolina Greensboro, where he served as a poetry editor for the Greensboro Review. He currently lives in Philadelphia and works at Swarthmore College.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Fritz Ward at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 9, No. 1, where "Letter to Youngstown" ran on March 30, 2009. List other work with these same labels: poetry.
