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Sleeping On a Train (sonnet)
Try though I might, I can't sleep on a train.
Not enamored with the sounds of those wheels,
No magic in coarse, rhythm-racket refrain,
Ghostly frightening, to senses' appeals.
Claustrophobic, stretched out in this slim berth;
Hands in corpse-fold; attempts vain, at slumber,
Humming dead-train songs, for all they are worth,
Such as, "Wreck of the Old... (pick a number.)"
That cow catcher can't divert a whole herd.
Loose coin to flatten, and we jump the track!
We'll meet our reward without warning-word;
Can't bear a thought of tunnel's fade to black.
Give me winding roads, grant me wings to fly;
Anything but rails, where I'm sure to die.
Michael Todd (2015)
