Adam Fieled (Conshohocken, Pennsylvania, USA): "Ode On the Schuylkill"

Borne by the river’s back, boat-legions rolled
    in search of commerce, bridges to build;
souls, cargo (heavy, light), bought and sold,
    coffers waiting in Philly to be filled.
Ladies leaped gingerly onto green banks,
    bound in satin or lace, versed in politesse or no,
         and walked rote patterns, inscribed insignias in the air;
crew-ship kids, underlings already in their ranks,
    sought to make the landing show-offy, slow,
       hulked a hundred yards from a drunken fair.

Add a century, an Expressway looms over
   the murk— wave-sounds, squeals, and metal—
which the Schuylkill cannot answer, hovering
    under— slow-moving, patient, and settled.
The river’s mind is limpid— the human race
   churns around it restlessly, adding bodies
      shorn of dignity, bloated, pulp-bloody, blue,
having carried burdens the river never dreams
    of, emptiness so incorrigible the Schuylkill’s face
         registers nothing but disinterested waves— tender, true.

The Over-brain, peering in, questioning, elevates
    the Schuylkill’s mystery into frozen heat—
truth and beauty buoyed up in the browning, decay, fate
    of all water-bodies prone to human meat—
I sit on the edge, watching overhanging leaves,
    frozen myself by the gross negligence
      of what lies beneath the river’s surface,
and my own, as the summer sun inverts, grieves
     for the masses, exploring no penitence
        as I am, grounded, here, and diving for purpose—

© Adam Fieled 2017