Monday, January 23, 2023

I Wake Up on the Train


with my head against the window. Standing water

in every field, each flooded ditch

mirrors the winter sunset: cold orange clouds

and blue-green sky.

The trees are bare even of shadows.


I watch the darkening sky.

In the distance, a glimpse of river

tells me we’re nearing home.

Behind us, the funeral and shiva.

Ahead, bridges rise glittering like strands of gems

at the throat of the city; the train calls out

to its kin. Locomotive, iron angel,

sweet chariot, carry us safely home.


Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside

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