Railroad Tracks

Side by side, we lie level
on a bed of stone.

When you, my other rail,
pull me to the right,

I pull you back.
But when I’m bending far,

I too feel the tug of the ties
beneath me.

In this way
we cross the desert.

Hot to the touch
in the heat of the day,

the children lay coins
on our backs. Soon,

the weight of the world
will be rushing

between us
in screeching sparks.

But first the thundering
hum of our harmony,

and then how long
it lingers after.

*

Timothy Green works as editor of Rattle and is the author of American Fractal (Red Hen Press). He also serves on the board of the Wrightwood Arts Center and is a contributing columnist for the Press-Enterprise.