by Carmen Leone
Great furnaces roar red flames
under the narrow, black, and rusty bridge.
Traffic jams at shift change.
Traffic cops to cue the lights.
Workers, dangling large, black lunch pails,
pass each other walking into fire
or escaping to cars or bus stops,
or on to beckoning bars.
Busiest place in town at shift change,
except for Downtown.
Driving over it at night,
at just the right time,
one caught a glimpse of hellfire,
hellsmoke billowing overhead.
Yet young and old men three times daily emerged,
paycheck and beer in sight.