trains

only the split ends need a trim

i'll keep the pictures, milk crates, socks

so fit it all right in

it's just a name, it's all the same, and yet

i thought i couldn't wait

last night i watched the laundry again

like i thought i did then

the slip of powder soap, the sound

of rails and singing in the wind and tying ends-

take my arm and hammer it home

i still hear my little whisper look

i wrote this poem for you

but it was for new england towns and snow

and dark skies and eyes - a cloud casts, a spark flies

a star falls and it's gone