At dusk, an abandoned boxcar sits
on an unused siding of the Great Basin Line
uncoupled from its train. Gone are the days
when hoboes, those adepts of diesel mysteries
swung in and out through these sliding doors
and giggled at the clumsiness
of the railroad bulls.
Its doors are jammed ajar now,
too narrow for modern container-freight.
In lavender solitude, listening
to the distant whistles of the rolling stock
in grey twilight on a rusted set of rails,
the cavern inside echoes like a temple
remembering the bells of diesel mysteries.
--for Poefusion
Collection available! Knocking from Inside
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Diesel Mysteries
Labels:
free verse,
poetry
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3 comments:
All things abandoned have their history and your boxcar is no different. You've captured the essence of its past and secured it in the future with your beautiful words. Thanks for sharing. Have a nice day.
So vivid!
This space of the boxcar has become sacred for the story it tells of human experience. Beautiful.
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