“East Palestine” by Erin Jamieson
I.
For one day, our town makes headlines: vinyl chloride invading modest single story homes.
Plumes of smoke invade the street where a breakfast diner once sold buttermilk pancakes.
We’re told it’s safe to return home. Neighbors report dead animals, lingering acidic smells in plaid sofas. We’re told to drink our water, but we cannot rid the taste of the smoke, of the headlines.
Some ask why we don’t just move.
As if we aren’t already struggling to buy groceries, to keep the lights on.
Soon, other headlines, other disasters erase the name of some rural Ohio town.
II.
Ethylhexyl Acrylate: a name that stings my eyes. I scrub my inflamed skin in the shower. I imagine it dripping into my morning coffee.
I close our blinds. I am in a hotel 100 miles away but I can still see the plumes of smoke. I imagine the two bedroom home I spent a decade saving for. The cracked laminate counters, the faucet that always leaks.
And the photos of my sister. Captured in eternal youth, a flower crown on her box braids as she steps across the stage of her college graduation.
I imagine her face being touched by the fumes. I imagine carpet being ripped out, imagine how the world will once again move on without our community.
III.
I stay in the hotel for a month, draining my savings. I write freelance articles until both my fingers and mind are numb. The numbness gets me through the day.
At night, though, the derailment happens over and over again.
Erin Jamieson’s (She/Her) writing has been published in over 100 literary magazines and nominated twice for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of Net. She is the author of four poetry chapbooks, including Fairytales (Bottle Cap Press) and a historical novel, Sky of Ashes, Land of Dreams (Type Eighteen Books).
