The Last Train by Sy Roth

The Last Train
The Last Train. Original photography by Robert Sundheimer with his permission

The train does its bidding
Chugging along the tracks
At its best speed
Bound inexorably to arrive somewhere
With its bounty,
A gobbled bunch of recruits to nowhere–
Packed them in like silken underwear in a women’s boudoir
Standard gauge track
Iron bound, unveven,
So that the cabs roll and sway on its heaving ocean
And the booty it carries
Try desperately to follow its motion
Sleepily seeking the message of the track
Humming its song along the arduous plain
Set by men and their Vulcan hammers
Singing their spiked humor with each blow
A synchronized song of somnolent travelers

On their way to curlicued wrought-iron warnings
And Napalmed villages–
On their way to darkened skies
Rimed with red ashes–
On their way to the Willoughbys–
Sleep remnant of the dreams played out in a loop–
On their way to way stations
Jumping points of fields of red poppies

On their way wherever the last train takes them
Following the last tracks laid for them
By the spirits of finality.

©2018 Sy Roth
Original photography by Robert Sundheimer with his permission


Follow Sy:

Sy Roth is a retired school administrator who has finally found the sounds of silence and the time to think whole thoughts. This has led him to find words and the ability to shape them. He has published in Visceral Uterus, Amulet, BlogNostics, Every Day Poets, Barefoot Review, Haggard and Halloo, Misfits Miscellany, Mad Swirl, Larks Fiction Magazine, Danse Macabre, Bitchin’ Kitch, Bong is Bard, Humber Pie, Poetry Super Highway, Penwood Review, Masque Publications, Foliate Oak, Miller’s Pond Poetry and The Eloquent Atheist.

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