Poem of the Week, by Reid Bush

Campbellsburg

- Reid Bush

Driving State Road 60 northwest out of Salem,

10 miles out–

and 10 before you come to Spring Mill Park–

off to your right –for just a blacktop minute–

is Campbellsburg,

which was a town

when the man you were named for had his store there,

but a glance through your window reveals it’s now gray

abandonment–

ugly sag and fall.

And you wonder who lives there now

and how anyone

even to have a brick store all his own

ever could.

But nothing about it matters to you half as much as that your dad

came in from that hill farm to the north

to go to high school there.

And that’s what you always point out to whoever’s with you in the

car.

And through the years what all your passengers have had in

common is

now matter how you point it out

they can’t care enough.


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