I made my bed beside the railroad tracks

laying down as the deer

in their wild and grassy places

and folded my hands

as if in prayer.

I made my bed beside the white clay road

banished from your call

as lost as any dog.

who can count the ways

I was unmade that night?

still the wheels of the road

rumbled close

always turning

like mother to child.

the train cried.

I felt its vibration in the earth.

it was no more than

the nighthawks passing over me,

like smoke rising.

the lights of the cars on the highway

to my drowning eyes

seemed globes – spirits

rising to heaven

can you blame me?

there was nothing left of me but tears

but words whispered in prayer.