Keeping Different Time
A line of improbable cars
wheels through the neighborhood
on an egg of light,
without rail or clatter.
Tracks of broken snow
connect the yards
beyond the ravine.
With branches slapping
against my coat,
I climb closer to read
their freight names—
evasive evidence
gone along a crack of light.
wheels through the neighborhood
on an egg of light,
without rail or clatter.
Tracks of broken snow
connect the yards
beyond the ravine.
With branches slapping
against my coat,
I climb closer to read
their freight names—
evasive evidence
gone along a crack of light.
* First published in: Urban Spaghetti (Mansfield, OH: 2000; the Jazz Issue)
