Sunday, February 1, 2015

Sleeping On a Train (sonnet)


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)