Feral Trains

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

grandmother dreams of a pupil of light     something

small enough to prophesize loss    dreams of pockmarks

on the surface of a pond in a faint rain     & since her body

is alluvial      & since her body is a gathering

she imagines that the long throat of the decades sings

in plosives of forgetfulness      as though waking in a dark room

at night is a slow dance     & the trains in the distance

seem loosed upon the earth with their ghostly blossomings

& grandmother imagines sitting with her grandchildren on an imaginary

back porch & watching each moon floating amid the dark

congealing river     & she remembers once dreaming

that a moon-flower pulsed atop the watery grave

& when she plucked it from the sky & held it close

to her body     it pressed itself against her chest to suckle

Wednesday, July 15, 2020