The Train

To start the new year I thought I’d pop in a poem – this is the first poem I’ve written. I used to work for the railways. I always found the first train out of the depo/end of line a bit like wakening a hungry beast and letting it out for the day to gorge on the passengers. I have respect for trains.

The Train

He slumbers without breath in the deep cold dark

Cavernous and empty, lying on his glittering bed

Dreaming of flesh, of slaking unquenchable appetite

Then, disturbed by the priest bearing the spark

Of life – caresses him awake inside the jawless head

Breathing life into silver organs, levering mouths awide

*

Increasing anticipation the external movement excites

They step into the toothless and tongueless mouths

Warm fleshy limbs lit by his alien lights

Brushed and washed, clean and sacrificing

Sleep and sex, compelled to leave their homes

Staring into dark, with tired resentful eyes

*

Moving from table to table it samples the wares

Each one adds to the meal, none left behind

Laboriously grinding along the silvered way

Regurgitating some, the silage of emptied fares

Careless opening and closing, belly full and round

Gorging and abandoning, till the death of the day.

*-*

i was on this train when it did this. Just outside Oakleigh station, around 2006.

i was on this train when it did this. Just outside Oakleigh station, around 2006.

The orphan and train

The orphan and train