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Visiting the Grandmother in Pittsburgh

I travelled past foundries withered into dust

and boarded, tired caffeine stops

reclaimed now by the ivy holding

an original lien on the property,

(taverns with neon Iron City signs

were the only places doing much business now)

past mountains mined carelessly, left to bleed

clay red as molten steel

to find that you were the only part of Pittsburgh

to remain the same; still sitting,

resting, you looked into the dull sea

of leprous B & O cars

in the switchyard

behind your duplex.