Train

1.

There was movement in the trees.

2.

I chased it with my eyes,

as I clambered for a match,

through the shadows—

so sour in their suddenness

and uniformed with animosity.

3.

A harshness beneath me,

the cold cement of city stairwells.

The rain made puddles—faces—

on the pavement;

they mocked my reckless body.

4.

The shadow I had seen—a figure moving,

almost tripping—absconded to the maze

of trees with nothing to live for,

nothing to grow on, not but reason…

5.

The rail had been of better use

when it was scrap metal,

clumps and coils of steel:

Now it clung to itself, flinching away

as I moved to feel it’s chill.

6.

The steps slid off my heels, a clopping sound,

and as I reached the deadened tree-line,

a voice fled from a body,

windy air catching unwound syllables:

7.

“There’s a fire in my ribs,

and you reject the biting crackling.”

8.

I caught the words and followed trace;

against my shadow’s warmest wish,

I ventured, stumbling, into the wood.

9.

A hollowed beat of footsteps drummed

above, beyond, within my chest.

A thrill of worry flittered wings,

threatening to stop me where I stood.

10.

Spiny limbs and tethered arms,

bled one another in a charcoal dimness.

Lusting for sky, the trees despaired their bindings

Hating their roots and telling me so.

11.

A shadowed mess, at first my eyes

depicted him as simply that;

silhouetted frame of bones, shoulders wound,

stubborn hair fixed as a nest of straw…

But his back was turned,

and imagination drew his face.

12.

I pictured him with cheekbones,

lips so stark they fought his chin.

Eyebrows piercing black and so

his eyes would likely match.

13.

His knees were juvenile;

with no regard for his tumbling torso,

they bent and swung and snapped

until his feet refused the ground.

14.

I followed him with slight regret,

apprehension tugging my sleeve;

he turned to glance behind him—

eyes eclipsed under the umbrellas of his brows—

and my wheezing heart shuddered.

15.

By the clock I reached his shoulder,

touched two fingers to his back.

He froze and spun at once—

my senses no longer my friends.

16.

His face was gaunt and hollow—

a skeleton in gauze.

Bottom lip half-limp, unnoticed,

as I stared at both his eyes.

17.

The ungodly dark swept up his face,

discoloring shades that had no color to rape;

his face cracked into a grin, a shaking,

violent sneer, before he lunged to strike my form—

18.

Awoke. A train. Suburban wind

rushing at me from a window.

A girl with pastries shuffling by, her hair whirling,

face pink with autumn weather.

19.

My lungs demanded a sigh, complying to my relief;

I turned to watch my window,

saw a shadow in retreat.