Railway To Hell

The Gypsy jumped from car to car, never getting off the train In Davenport through morning fog, the old town looked the same The prairies waited in the dark, the Rockies far beyond In Denver’s wind he heard the words to an oft-forgotten psalm The engine roared, the distance called, the rails went on and on The desert lit the night on fire, to burn the right from wrong A Reno stop to take on water, drowning in the past Through farms and fields and countryside, to Stockton now at last His feet stepped down to touch the earth, and genuflect once more Before reboarding, headed East —perdition his true lord (Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: April, 2020)