The Iron Horse Poem by Robert Matte Jr.

I

May 10,1869
Promontory Summit
thankless desert
sixty-five miles west of
Ogden, Utah
the joining of the continent
Union Pacific and Central Pacific
Chinese labor vs. Irish
West vs. East
the golden spike inscribed
with this prayer

"May God continue the unity
of our Country as this Railroad
unites the two great Oceans
of the world"

II

From across the ocean
my father returns
a year of hard fighting
a year of yearning
for a life of stability
my first memory at three
the huge train station
row upon row of
polished
wooden benches
all of the echoing
departures
arrivals
waiting waiting
for the Korean
war hero
my father popping
out of gate three
bigger than life
bigger than everything

III

Over the ocean
the night train
between Paris and Rome
The mid-sixties
my classmates and I
our senior trip
pumped up
by the moment
by possibilities
we will live forever
never die in war
or in accidents or
from a wasting disease
we will live forever
the endless clack of
the tracks
as we head for
bright lights of the
eternal city

IV

Out of Bezerkeley
hurtling toward Phoenix
for Thanksgiving on
the Sunset Limited
tail end of
the Hippie era
my karma and
one marriage
shot all to hell
the desert rushing by
beyond the window
as I force down a
stale sandwich
in the dining car
good metaphor
for my life
stale and wasted
hoping for new answers
at the crack of a wishbone
in a city named
for a bird that rises
from its own ashes

V.

Between lives
on the Super Chief
I quietly nurse
a beer
in the club car
as those around me
whoop it up
oblivious to the
Great Plains
oblivious to the
ghosts of millions
of buffalo which
stampede along
both sides of the
tracks

VI.

It's my birthday
May 10th.
Somewhere in
the next dimension
they're letting me
drive that golden
spike
again and again
my shirt sweat soaked
the sledge hammer
creating a high
rhythmic pitch
that vibrates
through the tracks

VII.

Headed for Seattle
on the Empire Builder
got my new life
new wife
got right with God
and launched
a lifetime of guilt
into the night sky
she and I cocoon
in the sleeper car
and dream
of whales
of deep oceans
of serendipity

VIII.

As the steam train
sways and huffs toward
the Grand Canyon
through pinion pine
scrub oak and juniper
my sons ask
how big is the hole
how many marbles
to fill it
I look at them in
their matching cowboy
hats and holsters
they will spend their lives
filling holes, putting out
fires, dancing in circles
you don't want to
fill it up I say
there is more than enough
time ahead to think of
such things

IX.

Waitin' on
the train to Glory
bags packed
ticket ready to be
punched
memories boxed
for the freight car
God long ago
gave up on the unity
of our country
but all of us can
still come home
riding those wheels
if we'll just
surrender
putting our
trembling hands
high in the air