Outside, cold got to be boss
If the temperature dropped below minus twenty-five, steel rails shattered

People watched their tragedies through night’s window
Mountains pulled themselves toward the sky
Moon drank from its own pond
The locomotive’s headlight burned through new snow

A sudden tunnel broke the cataleptic beat
We plunged into a mountain’s nape and entered our tombs

Across the aisle, the grave of a pharaoh opened in AP photos
Tut in a newspaper caught colors in lights dimmed for sleep

My eyes moved along the rails…my muscles held me to steel
The night washed my translucent body

The diesel-headed engine’s stubbornness pulled our time toward a storm
Midnight’s Moon shook in a glass of red wine