Pennies On The Track

Little pennies, before you
cut you metal,
the station bell cums hard the noon hour,
wiry man in barker's blue too aware that
time, immemorial, crests the falls and disappears
in crescendo mist below,
he blows his brass whistle shrill,
black scrum thrown into a gaping maw of hell fire,
greedy the long phallic throttle is pulled,
choked,
cattle killer come to life belching billowing clouds
   poisoned cotton candy
      black bulbous smoke,
eyeing the land ahead,
accursed solid snake swallowing coiled steel,

a rare rough throated night wren
cradles her clutch underwing
huddling in the crosstie skunkworks,
the trestle shudders,
a creosote escarpment,
moonlit
a monster skulks steam overhead,

in terror the wren forgoes her maternal devotion,
calling save yourselves
she takes flight,

and from an inky cimmerian silhouetted forest skyline,
from that dark edge of clustering constellations beyond,
from an invisible perch,
she the voyeur of the living damned,
the peregrine falls fast,
the wren
is taken,
little pennies, soon flattened.

TA