The Steel Mill Abandons Weirton, West Virginia
by Flavian Mark Lupinetti
We were cautioned of the closure soon to happen. We had warnings that the roaring sound would end. When the furnaces have bellowed their last blast. When the railroad cars have ceased to drag the slag. Do not fear the world will lose its precious metal. Do not fear the world will miss its men of iron. Steel forever will be forged in other places–Chad, Korea, China, Chile, Kazakhstan. It’s useless to us hoping for a savior. It’s hopeless to use prayer as a quick fix. We’d be craven to stay home the day it closes. We’ll bear witness as the guards padlock each gate. Already notice that the air we breathe is cleaner. Already notice that street traffic has declined. Doesn’t matter we annealed twelve tons of tin plate. Doesn’t matter we gave birth to all those cans. We felt betrayed when Iron City switched from tin cans to aluminum. We didn’t let it stop us from consuming all they brewed. We resigned ourselves that every time we popped a cold one. It’s the devil’s metal twixt the pilsner and the paint.
Flavian Mark Lupinetti, a poet, fiction writer, and cardiac surgeon, received his MFA from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. His chapbook The Pronunciation Part is forthcoming in 2025 from The Poetry Box. Mark lives in New Mexico.
Photography, 2012. Click image to enlarge.