Ully Hirsch/Robert F. Nettleton Poetry Prize Runner-Up The dead in Braddock are piled on streets; the smell sticks to your clothes. In pleasant places the dying are ripened grapes – dried and...

Ully Hirsch/Robert F. Nettleton Poetry Prize Runner-Up When I take the train to Pennsylvania it winds in at night, through those hills, past those porches Your dreams lit the fires of steel mills...