Where the Whispers Go
The train trundles to a halt
Shuddering yellow rust
You hop out past the gap
Turning to watch it shudder on
Through branches reaching, beckoning
To reclaim wayward land
Over tracks sown with tangled green
Spilling from band to band.
The trees in bloom the poplars
That canopy the courts of the dead
Spreading magic, white as bone
A hundred thousand seeds
Trapped suspended in the air
A flowering snow
Lilting in the breeze
Summer afternoon sun
Shining weaving dodging through
Glimmering rays like fingers
Of some spindly, forgotten hand.
A raging storm of calm
Under light so bright it hurts
Over land dug deep with secrets
Dark dust damp from yesterday’s rain
Shifting the soil from its place
Marking where the whispers go.
Peeling from the cheek a smile
Full of teeth and tongue and grief.
