The Night Train

The night train comes,
its sole satellite shining on the planet
its iron sea become molten daylight.
The horn I hear sings to you too,
the sparkle of rain on a leaf.
The night train gleams
in the wrinkled steel.
The leaving never ends.
There’s an eye in the tear
And lips lost in a scream.
For what has been–
losses ascend.
There is a weight that gravity leaves.
I enter the room where nothing is
what it’s been, a scene without an act,
the innocent dream of peace receding
behind a black cataract roaring in a bag
of wind, the spinning we’re in.
Minds all around and none of them thinking.