Level Crossing
In the dark space on the journey from one home
To another
struts across the tracks like staples and an eyeful
of distance stripped with metal steel
We land ourselves on the factory line
digital rust on dirty signs
the flat stack of train tracks
looking out at a waffle iron glindering
in the morning and drizzled with sunshine
at lunchtime
a hot breath of train in the distance
yarling like a snake
