The Ballad Of Bostian's Bridge Poem by Professor Plum

it screamed through trees
while they giggled and
gulped beer eager for the
wreck of 1891

shadows spit gobbets
of black diesel fuel and
an engine head light bright
sparked the forest floor

wires were at right angles
with humid leaves wambling
and rocks crunching under
foot on a phantom trestle

he saw it far too late
the roaring specter (scrambling)
breath coming quickly and
that final panicked notion

pushing her off and then heeding
the sound of bones beside
the wires still at right angles
it all finished and everything quit