Blame the passing train
stirring memory and dust
steel rails a poet bending
the direction of a small cough
brother poet stands still
there's a train heading
god knows where with
half a percentage gain
probably behind schedule
and a few are wishing
they could stop and listen
to the poem of a poet’s cough
the health of a nation being
such a complicated thing
© 2016 Rob Schackne
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