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Oh Christ! The Train's a Comin'
The rash upon my wrist
awaits the railroad track
Nail
to penetrate my flesh
and
hang.
The cabooseman rubs his white gloves together
waiting to pass the railroad
Mail Station
and catch the white bag
that
hangs.
And onward the Train travels through
the tunnel of Hell
and then up the railroad tracks
to the Heavens where stars
hang
like lightbulbs.
Copyright ©
Benjamin Bartley
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