by Lily Hunger
The mills are closed – and yet
the city continues to churn
out the ore
into the marrow
of our spines, the joint
of our clenching jaws.
We stand in the face
of harsh winters and harsher lives
and laugh. Yes,
the mills are closed.
They rust and crumble,
but not us.
In us, the steel lives on.
Lily Hunger is a recent graduate of the NEOMFA Creative Writing program in Northeast Ohio. Her work has been featured in publications like Every Day Fiction, Spiritus Mundi, and the Ashbelt Literary Journal. She has also served as the Fiction Editor for the Rubbertop Review.