Ohio

Recall what’s folded in this river valley:
honeysuckle, salt factories, glaciers—
somewhere, the tallest tree, elsewhere, the smallest.
What slow sound folds within the trees:
capillary action, water, turning
heartwood, call and response.

What’s folded in this river valley:
chest-beaters, boys and girls seeking ways out
and ways in.
Snake skins languishing silver on muddy banks,
a choir singing: steamboats, locomotives,
crickets, and lawnmowers.
Recall recall recall

What’s folded in this river valley:
forgotten memorials, dead languages
suspended on signposts in public parks,
words like, Ohiyo, Miami, or Shawnee.

Recall cars driving through Route 50, Bridgetown, Dogtrot, Zion.
Recall glaciers splitting the heads of mountains—glaciers suicide-diving to the sea.

What’s folded in this river valley:
honeysuckle, salt factories, glaciers—
somewhere, the largest sound, elsewhere, the smallest.
And folded within a sound: the channels, the sediment,
the taste, and the runoff.