Brown mortar, black bricks, buildings
from industry’s youth.
Two girls walk along a narrow
sandy path over the dam. Violent brown-black
water rushes through
the spillway. A sign cautions.
A gull nests in a granite slab.
(Incubation is a branch of geology.)
Reach for the black bricks—
to know them. Their texture is glass.
They were cooked to the point
at which manufacturing gives way
to beautiful compounds. Söderfors
is a silent town. Its cast-iron clock
is ornate and wrong. Bright green,
nearly lime: that used to be the color
of a rusting Saab parked all by itself.