Monday, December 29, 2008

The Eight O Five

The Eight O Five
by Diane Glancy

The train
again this morning, sky always gray,
grain cars flying
like blackbirds with field seed
in their bellies.

The eight o five carrying
sings like tribes
when they migrated north in summer
across the plains
following tracks of herds.

High water into trees.
The lake full of rain.
We say it is someone else
pushing down on the lake
to make it spill over its edge.

While we wait
the woman earth sings with the tribes,
transforms herself
into all things.

After the train
brush burning, the delay of smoke
in the car comes after
we have passed like sound.

Rain hangs fringe from earth woman’s dress.
She holds the delay of truth
until it comes from our mouths.

Coyotes sleep on her lap,
birds fly into the branches of her hair
while farther down the road
the black snake train wiggles behind her ear.

Diane Glancy

Reprinted by permission of Holy Cow! Press (Duluth, Minnesota) ¦copy;1986 by Diane Glancy. All rights reserved.

Source: Offering: Poetry & Prose (Holy Cow! Press, 1988).

No comments: