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In Response
to a Rumor That the Oldest Whorehouse in Wheeling, West
Virginia, Has Been Condemned |
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I
will grieve alone, As I strolled alone, years ago,
down along The Ohio shore. I hid in the hobo
jungle weeds Upstream from the sewer
main, Pondering, gazing.
I saw, down
river, At Twenty-third and Water Streets By the
vinegar works, The doors open in early
evening. Swinging their purses, the women Poured
down the long street to the river And into the
river.
I do not know how it was They could
drown every evening. What time near dawn did they
climb up the other shore, Drying their
wings?
For the river at Wheeling, West
Virginia, Has only two shores: The one in hell,
the other In Bridgeport, Ohio.
And nobody
would commit suicide, only To find beyond
death Bridgeport, Ohio.
James
Wright
Read poems about / on: suicide,
river,
women,
alone,
water,
death,
time,
woman,
work
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Rumor That the Oldest Whorehouse in Wheeling, West
Virginia, Has Been Condemned by James
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Response to a Rumor That the Oldest Whorehouse in Wheeling,
West Virginia, Has Been Condemned by James
Wright)
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