The train jumped the tracks, plowed through the town,
on the ground twenty minutes that felt like two hours.
The sky with its eyes shut down, the man in the moon
shielding his face. Where there are no stars the wind,
God’s own locomotive, slams to smithereens what was
above the bald earth, the roots of bark-stripped trees.
(29 April 2014)
copyright 2014 by Floyce Alexander