the loneliness of train whistles

tracks over Mayo
the loneliness of train whistles
has been known
to keep us up at night.

when there is moon,
we play hopscotch
onΒ  old sidewalks

with chalked silhouettes
of desire. when there is not,
we walk white-footed the rails

by the river, counting
darks between shadows
until the sun

comes and grows and
our backs bend too heavy
so we turn them

from the creosote-soaked
tang of the city
to dig holes in dry dirt,

filling them up
with all the weight
of emptiness.

34 thoughts on “the loneliness of train whistles

  1. Agh, the exquisite pang of longing – no one does it like you Poetessa. You start on a great sensation (Loneliness of train whistles) and end even better on the “the weight of emptiness.” You’ve been away too long, my dear.

  2. digging holes to fill them with our emptiness….really nice close…i love the train whistles and clacks…grew up with them at the foot of the hill…creosote…you gave it smell….that is some nasty stuff, just saying….smiles.

  3. This struck me as a collage of wonderful memories from childhood… I suppose it’s because I had similar experiences growing up. But your last line made me feel a little sad. I so wish I still had those experiences every day, that I didn’t need to grow up. Life is filled with so many different things though. Luckily I am a marauder of life, robbing away memories of those special times. And I keep them locked away in a very special place that only poems and dreams remember…. I think you do too. lovely poem.

  4. I am extremely fond of the sound of trains. There is something beautiful but painfully lonely about a train whistle, and you captured that so eloquently here. I felt and heard every nuance. I loved every word.

  5. kinda creepy that the moment I clicked on your link and read the title a train passed by blowing it’s whistle! Ha! Anyway, nice job, I loved the opening especially. Thank you for sharing this πŸ™‚

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