tracks

the train leaving longueville runs backwards

over red plastic,  past ripped out tracks. some

some emergency  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.  i was to slow to shoot the band of deer

that is gone now,  their fresh tracks  pressed

through a light snow.  Another path crossed

 too quickly,  leaving  no more than a memory and its
sweet, severed limbs.

   s.