Chicano Poet

Monday, January 07, 2008

Waiting For The Train At Turin, 1973

The train had muscles
cloven from Italy.
Oh, Roman girl rippling from a wooden fountain.

The machine brown like a penny,
bubbles bunched up
against an aqueduct.

My other leg hung in a star,
ganglia stuffed
the sky in a straw.

When the train passed
it picked up after itself.
So far, I’m unaccounted for.


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