Golden Shovel with lines from Justin Hamm’s Gratitude for the Poets

Bright light along the bayfront like a thank
You from the sky, clouded all week, the Khmer you
Sit beside fishing on the pier, casting for
Walleye & fried Perch dinner. The
First sparks from the foundry, blood
Red flames from the arc welders on the freighter—men of
Thick biceps & hard hatted. They will sit eating peaches
On the quay on break. &
You are contemplating the ghost tracks of the
Women who walk 19th street, scarecrows
With legs, garishly beautiful & funny boogying
At passing cars, yet you say in
This play there is a tragedy so daily the
Heart cannot hold it long against the breeze
Carrying cherry blossoms at their feet. Eileen, Thank
You for living another year, you
Who told me at the park you loved poetry, for
Even with the voices you hear, taking
A moment to sit as you rummaged the
Big purse you carry for a lighter that time
I sat writing in a notebook in the park to
Say something not a lie. The Polish
Call their grandfathers Dzia Dzia you said the
Shadows cast & off you went with a face
Still shaped by arias of fate & desire of
Nothing I can claim to indict, as common as the
Denouement of day announcing the moon.