The News ( Stop That Train)
When you died I was reading Whitman
While you died I was miles away,
thousands of deserts and oceans
and mountains and plain.
When you went I was reading aloud the end
to a crowd trying
to, remember how grief once felt,
wanting to forget,
wanting not to.
While you went about that dangerous road
on your way was it to the sea
I was saying Look for me under your boot soles.
Caked with mud.
Caked with mud the color
of blood, the picture much
later I saw of your truck
by what was left
of the axles–
Your passenger brother’s breath a miracle.
When you died I was reading aloud
for the dead, for what
I had almost believed
and then the world went
And did this. I cannot forgive this world, its gear’s unsteady turn,
that day’s sun that shone
While you died trying to get home.