After Rain, Steam and Speed–The Great Western Railway, 1844
For these boys it’s the closest they’ll come
to church genuflected beyond
the tree line a vestibule where jewelweed
and foxglove needle hairless
limbs goosebumps rise
on their eager skin one giggles
and is mothered
back to reverence
they are a verge of gibbering flies
then the rumble trembles dew
soggy clover the flowers are weak
petitioners brought to their knees
this train like Turner’s
Pentecostal tongue pieces them
oh hands oh sides weak as India paper
it closes on the epileptic rail
they are mad with its power
and it’s then the youngest sees
his grubby penny tip off the rail
to be nothing itself
and suddenly he is up
and racing
what happens next
is a story in figures and fingers
too easy to sever maybe
he will close the distance
oh boy rising toward
this pauper’s alter make it
the other boys scream
to move back there will be
more days like this they are shrill
because who can say the wheels will settle
at the knuckle at the wrist
we want it to be less
the train so close now
I want to unwrite what brought him here
but what whets like blood
and this verse does not ask a wrist
but a whole boy
the only whom we love
Kyle McCord is the author of five books of poetry including National Poetry Series Finalist Recklessness and Light (Trio House 2016). He has work featured in AGNI, Boston Review, Crazyhorse, The Gettysburg Review, Harvard Review, Kenyon Review, Ploughshares, TriQuarterly and elsewhere. His book was selected as one of the top five books of the year by the Poetry Foundation Blog. He has received grants from the Academy of American Poets, the Vermont Studio Center, and the Baltic Writing Residency. He teaches at Drake University in Des Moines.