Appalachian Heritage

I picture my ovaries like two steelworkersfresh off a picket line     they holler things likeWe've got a family to feed down here!sometimes they hammer box nailsagainst my insides     stopping me in my tracksbecause step one in the steel-making processis a train car full of coke dust     locked and suspendedtwisted and emptied     forcing me     the vesselinto fever and nausea     forging meinto an armored variety of alloy

this body only does what it's evolved to doso I try to empathize     I try to refuse to hatethe little guys for obeying ordersand I shoulder them     like a mother wouldeven when burn my center in a blast furnaceand even when     I wish they weren't mine

because at least my body     is workingmy body     no less     is working overtimeforming calluses inside itself     growing tissuewhere it doesn't have to     the foreman on dutywould tell you this crew     always goes the extra mileall of them praying their thanks each night for the work [End Page 88]

and so I let them     I tell themTake your kids to the lake for vacationbecause I am full of opportunities     possibilitiesthat scream and ache and itch at me from insideorgans clocking time-and-a-half

my body sends me down the line     sears and craftsmy core into the spine containedwithin a concrete stadium     columns withstandingan essential bridge     and like all worthy infrastructureI stand     I support the weight [End Page 89]