sábado, 17 de dezembro de 2016

tracks

the train leaving longueville runs backwards
over red plastic,  past ripped out tracks and there
is some emergency  that keeps  slowing us
down.  the empty metal bellies of furnace,
of industrial choke are gone for now but
we know it is thanks to them we could get
this far.  a band of deer i was too slow to capture
are gone now too,  their fresh tracks  pressed
through a light snow receding,  like all paths crossed
 too quickly,  leaving  no more than  memory and its
 sweet, severed limbs.


   s.

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