Walking, Blues
By Jane Mead
Rain so dark I
can’t get through—
train going by
in a hurry. The voice
said walk or die, I
walked,—the train
and the voice all
blurry. I walked with
my bones and my heart
of chalk, not even
a splintered notion:
days of thought, nights
of worry,—lonesome
train in a hurry.
Source: Poetry (October 2010)