Western Trains

  by David Chorlton

I
The train that blows a long
note on its whistle from Grand Avenue
at two o’clock in darkness
follows stars
into the desert

where a silence waits
that chills even steel to a shiver.

II
Through a winding canyon close
to where the foxes have awakened

a train follows the curve
in the tracks where it clings

to a ledge of hard rock
from which no one looks down.

III
Seen from where the lizards wait
in shadows and cracks in the earth

the train is an illusion
moving slowly through the heat
with its edges melting
as it crawls

ever closer with the power
of thunder breaking

but held in the grip
of the horizon’s incessant pull

IV
The train that threads itself
into a storm
moves with a needle’s purpose
passing through
one raindrop at a time.

V
The wheels hum a lullaby
on the endless freight train
rolling from midnight
through the hours

with moonlight slipping
into empty cattle cars.