The Hesper and The Luther Little

The Hesper and The Luther Little

I see my father ironing his suit

After high school in early evenings
Kids in scrappy cars park toward
The town's main street and watch other cars
Some dangle their arms on linen-scented shoulders

Our lungs like ovens, we smoke
For freedom is immortality's thrill
Although mothers still make beds

I walk down to the bridge over
The Sheepscot River and pull up the collar
Of my dad's jacket, feel his submerging loss
As I watch two black and ancient coal ships
Sinking together, their rust
And clanging masts crying to be saved

Few in my class graduated and knew
Of no future world beyond town they could aspire
I held my small diploma, but couldn't leave my father
Even when the ships were gone
And there was no place to go