Trains Poem by Kevin Patrick

Midnight strikes: and the drawing din emits
an embryonic thunder, strolling momentarily
in the emaciated coppice in the bleached north end and flickers with the heartbeat of an earthquakes engine Lugging forwards freight cars and passenger carriages That arrive and embark in the blink of an auricle And I sit and listen with bedsores for jetlag
With only the haunting reframe of a memory
As the sound of the tracks avalanche into embers Like the song of a whale heading for still waters
To skyscraping citadels from steal age miracles Where culture is the produce of a grocery store And everyone can slip inside the corner of their jungles Sliding snugly to the genus of their own unique deviance’s While I lay in the attic hearing rails pour adventures
To pictures of vistas gliding into the vanishing point
Then like torturous clockwork the sounds begin again Muttering with a fog horned rimmed sadistic salutation Which scratches my confidence for a mental tunicate As the sounds ensnare like a tall tale heart Roaring with urgency of a thousand stamping elephants Crossing towards a future while I’m a Quadriplegic Marooned to a kingdom of repetitious syllables Pronouncing and announcing the cities distant mantra While the moist air feeds into rusted prison chain
And this room grows shadows that resemble bars
The trains come and go, and I pine in their afterglow
Listening to the dissolving notes of their opportunity
Pass in the metallic tumbleweed of unbound destination
While mines remains in earthbound