Freight Car

Leave the locomotion to the engine 

and sigh wide chatter the rhythm. 

Fade your red, shake the rickety ladder, 

spidery letters of “Southern Pacific” a peeling tatter. 

The potatoes, the okra, the ore. Such a corrugated rattle, 

endless chore. But the sway,

the sashay down the track. The way cargo delivers 

other cargo— comfort, food, heat. 

The way Mother Teresa carried more

than bandages and bread.

Do you know what pulls you               down the track? 

Count the movement, 

not the matter. You know how to cart and clatter—

                 until the destination.

How then the doors slide 

open, the brisk unloading,

and all that remains is light.