Monday, October 19, 2020

day THIRTEEN HUNDRED and SEVENTY ONE

 The Tracks


after Tranströmer

Moonlight at 2 a.m. There’s a train that is stopped
in an open field. Shards of light from a distant city
are cold as they flicker on the far horizon.

Like when a person goes into the depths of a dream
so far, they don’t ever remember they were there
once they’ve made it back to their bedroom.

Or when somebody falls into a deep sickness
and all of their days turn into flickering shards,
swarming, cold and faint off on the horizon.

The train sits there completely still. 2 a.m.
The moonlight strong. Only a few stars.

--Scott Silsbe

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