i'm facing backwards

on a speeding train, watching

the world fall away.

the ground is swallowed.

green and buzzing, rising tide,

coats the hills like paint.

it sits on the ground

under the seat and watches

nothing absently.

blazing white birch trunks

lie shattered and crumbling

beside the train tracks.

quiet meadow grass,

and soil, so sweet and cool--

gentle sunset blue.

ancient farm land bones

lying in old foundations

bleached and caked with dirt.

two open doorways

stare out vacant, black as night,

calm as death itself.