As the train slows, a struck joint
echoes between cars: a bull’s-eye crash that buckles
over space, boxcar to boxcar,
an air and iron corridor. Ear and eye file report,
though not in synch. When the cars’ convulsion’s done,
the ear’s petite, unerring forge
As the train slows, its stockcars bang out
their commuting shudder. Yokes sound
in heavy pairings: so feeling wakes up
in feeling. So many bit parts
teach this living whole, so touch-touch, but
every body is far apart.
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