Let happiness lie like a dog on your lap,
Virginia, state of green, state of mountain
roads, and tackler of new centuries, but
don’t get upset if we leave you. Virginia,
let your vagina set you free or get out of
town with your twat. Virginia, how dare
you disappear without Boy Danny—oh,
call the pipes, the pipes that beat you
Danny that were mined from the mountain,
with your voice like a cicada shedding its
skin to call out loud, out drowning white
rubbish radio sounds, calling the pipes
that you’ll be no one’s boy in Virginia—
remember, that those who treated you
well never forgot how they could sell you.
Virginia, rise with your haunches from the
meadow grass, let your hair fall from its bun.
Walk naturally along the crest of the bridge.
Virginia, your little friends are wrong and
all minds are little. Virginia, take the bitch
off your lap—lift up your frontier dress.
Photo by Jose Padua. Jose Padua is co-author of the blog Shenandoah Breakdown.