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Train Wreck
God it is moving!
Its heavy wheels creak,
and groan, like the moan of a mountain after a kill,
it shudders and cracks backwards, down the hill.
I stare, powerless.
A shadow sky, funeral grey.
Blackbirds flicker and weep.
The second train, far below, is asleep.
All of the people, away in dreams.
The heavy train pulls away in sweeps.
I stare, powerless.
The driver is in panic,
waving arms at his fleeing charge,
faster, it out-runs him as he runs runs,
collapses to knees, to weep.
The second train, far below, is asleep.
All of the people, away in dreams.
Floating as it floats, faster
as the clock-hand clacks, faster
as the sky cracks,
thundering,
thundering,
thundering.
Heavy iron blocks boom
down the bleak and grassy tomb,
coughing in cartwheels and liquid-oil lurches,
gaping and grinding past chapels and churches,
chewing up track,
chew chew chew chew,
and I can see it all, powerless.
Powerless.
No whistle screams.
The second train, far below, is asleep.
All of the people, away in dreams.
Powerless.
I am powerless.
The driver is face-down now, can't look.
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