The Son Also Rises

The Son Also Rises

I am from the Big Sky,
from ghost towns and silver dollars
I am from the fumes of the smelter smokestack
(proud, towering
it stood like a phallus)
I am from the succulent bitterroot,
the meadowlark
whose wake-up songs like reveilles
set summer mornings in motion

I’m from beer and billiards
             from Emerson and Paris Gibson
I’m from Black Eagle Falls
              from Anaconda Copper
from coal mines and hard winters
I’m from the glory of the west
              where they love me best
               and still know my name

I’m from Myron and Ines’ tree
pot roast and russet potatoes
from the orphanage of my grandfather
                In Twin Bridges
the pain of my father’s sudden leaving
Beside my bed is a shoebox
bulging with old photos
a blur of past faces
that drift before my eyes
I am from these visages-
sepia tones taken before my dawning-
progeny of proud pioneers