Last Train out of Fairbank
One dark Saturday
when business was slow
the men who took this ground from the Apaches
rode away on the railroad they had built
without ever considering
it was worth giving back, even
with a breeze like today’s
and the smell of greasewood after rain.
Ghost Town in August
Nobody lives anymore
beneath this particular sky, or looks up
into the August clouds
expecting them to break before
the train pulls in
where the station used to be. As lightning
shakes sparrows from the grass
the stable rattles
and a grosbeak turns
electric blue in the mesquite bosque.
Then all the weather
moves inside: the calm
that follows every storm
fills the seats behind each desk
in the empty schoolroom.
David Chorlton
is a transplanted European, who has lived in Phoenix since 1978. His
poems have appeared in many publications on- and off-line, and reflect
his affection for the natural world, as well as occasional bewilderment
at aspects of human behavior. His most recent book, A Field Guide to
Fire, is his contribution to the 2015 Fires of Change exhibition in
Flagstaff, Arizona.
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