Train Wreck

James Steel Smith

Rails, frostbrittle,
snap
on the mountain, in the swamp, on right of way through wheat
   fields,
on the roadbed circulating among tenements
drop
their confident burdens down a chute of fear,
flip
engines and enginemen into trash of non-arrival,
scrap
by fractioned inch family reunion, promotion, factory empire,
conspiracy of two or thousands,
stop
the going men consider their personal achievement and pre-
   rogative,
whip
with midnight flail of cars and lash of steam wide pride of tyrant
   travelers.

Brittle rails
break at one flaw,
one mortal chip.