Twin Cities

I wonder how many old men last winter

Hungry and frightened by namelessness prowled

The Mississippi shore

Lashed blind by the wind, dreaming

Of suicide in the river.

The police remove their cadavers by daybreak

And turn them in somewhere.

Where?

How does the city keep lists of its fathers

Who have no names?

By Nicollet Island I gaze down at the dark water

So beautifully slow.

And I wish my brothers good luck

And a warm grave.

- James Wright