W.I. Stoneberger

Midnight Train

Where is that train going ?

Only audible in the quietest hours,
rumbling along the edges of sleep.

Who rides those moonlit rails ?

In dreams, I call out to that engineer,
begging to be taken away
- all the way to the end of the line.


I heard a sightless song
old black blind blues
tapping your good foot
against the darkness
flapping your sinister wings
like rhythm like time.

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