...howls out a tunnel,
as if compassed through
an artist's book, crafted
skillfully, layer upon layer.
Neon shock on black,
spells out the rhythm
of a giant mass beating
on iron track, ever louder
then diminishing, fast,
a miniature lifetime
passing through a junction.
Safe in my child’s bed,
it shrieked a warning to me,
piercing the acres of forest
and now it cuts over canyons
and circles buttes the same
sound, a long life line
this passing age of steel.
as if compassed through
an artist's book, crafted
skillfully, layer upon layer.
Neon shock on black,
spells out the rhythm
of a giant mass beating
on iron track, ever louder
then diminishing, fast,
a miniature lifetime
passing through a junction.
Safe in my child’s bed,
it shrieked a warning to me,
piercing the acres of forest
and now it cuts over canyons
and circles buttes the same
sound, a long life line
this passing age of steel.
What a vivid portrayal, I can almost hear the train reading your words. Wonderful!
ReplyDeletenice...really intense second stanza to this lorna...i like how you use the train in this...those trains pass fast...we have them but a moment...i love trains too..smiles.
ReplyDeleteI would so love to hear the call of a train from bed. Sigh. I so long for a train ride.
ReplyDeleteHowling, shock on black: wonderful, Lorna.
ReplyDeleteLiving within earshot of a train track that snakes along the Truckke river, this brought vivid images to me. The sound inspires poetry (I've written a few, too) and, to me, has a melancholic note to it.
ReplyDelete