It was called the early years in upstate Pennsylvania
or it was called the first long trek with a footlocker
up over his shoulder so he had to bend both knees
at almost every landing. He held his head
sideways, as if for listening, it was called killing
worms, the bells had already started, the second
or third, he thought; by his calculations, the ringing
would stop by the number seven. He thought maybe
almost two seconds for each long ring; he counted
himself among the chosen ones to be in the
bell’s range. He knew he would lie down on his back
after he tried the faucets and opened the windows,
and go to sleep with the sound. It was called
the first concert, the bird in the iron mouth.