Arts

Cincinnati Arch

By Wesley Houp

When it comes to pressure
and time, this place
is diamond.
I’ve lived most of
my allotment between
limestone ledges.

Grown some killer dope
where the railroad
ground through.

Pulled out
a cephalopod
as long as my arm.

Plowed up my
father’s wallet
ten years after he’d
plowed it under.
One decrepit sawbuck.
A driver’s license.

One end of my time
trifolding back to the other.

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