It is hard not to look down from these heights
on the unfeeling flatlands
of southeast Hagerstown, its minor-league

Like everything else they are
like nothing else—

shrubs so petal heavy
their limbs swim in the light
                                                            wind

                If you were fired and were free to go
                  From Appalachia to
                  The Apennines, would you

Scared sacred scarred
the aging and unread bard

Give up the yearning to be some
One other than you are;
Surgery leaves a scar.

And even one’s sour self can seem to be
Innocent of the malice that is poison.