The Great Northern Nears the Station
Even in full dark, the heat
makes the air outside
the window waver
like the fever-ripples
above a
summer sidewalk
From far below on the valley
floor, the sound of a
distant train whistle
whispers
across the fields and
rises up
to push in the
folds of the
sheer curtains
next to our bed
I am both here with you
then and here alone
now, lying
in the dark
listening to the distant
sound, and you
breathing beside me
in perfect rhythm with
the solemn song of
the train
on midnight air
My heart follows that sound
into the sky,
knowing even then
that you were slipping
away
faster than
the rushing railroad cars.
Afterlife in Blue
It smells of green, the wood beneath me, a smell so sharp
I expect to look down and see the planks beginning to
sprout.
But the sun, hot on my back, makes the grey of the wood
planks shine smooth as a silver platter ready for a
feast
I shade my eyes with one hand, blue everywhere around me,
water and sky, and in the midst of it a line of gleaming
whiplash
where you cast your line out over and over, whipping it against
the blue air, perhaps going for distance, or a particular
spot
beckoning from the open sea. Who are you? I don’t even want
to look. So many there are I’ve known this way, sitting in
sun
on a dock over bright water, knowing my own line to be a short
distance away, resting unused against a rail or on the planks
behind
or intentionally left at home in favor of a dog-eared book or a
warm blanket to sun on, arm flung over my eyes against the
glare
breathing in the sharp air, its heat, the musty smell of the dock,
and the sense of someone loved and treasured with a fishing
pole
breathing free and clear just a few feet away from me
in the sun
Judith Mikesch McKenzie has traveled much of the world, but is always drawn to the Rocky Mountains as one place that feeds her soul. She loves change—new places, new people, new challenges, but writing is her home. Her poems have been published in Wild Roof Journal, Halcyone Literary Review, Plainsongs Magazine, Elevation Review, Scribblerus, Cathexis Northwest Press, Meat for Tea Valley Review, and several others. She is a wee bit of an Irish curmudgeon, but her friends seem to like that about her.