By Matt Whiteman
Eldoret, Kenya | July 2011
A lone nearby cookfire slow-roasting maize
Glows unaware of an impending blaze.
“Sorry,” says the foreman from his recline
As I leave his office, cluttered and dim,
“But passenger trains don’t run on this line”;
Good stories of little matter to him,
When sixty-tonne rail cars yearning for flight,
Leave their old rails at the small station’s quay,
Spill crude ‘tween parallel tracks and ignite
These rivers, just spitting distance away.
That thunder, dust and impossible stink
Resign my desire to get there by train
But despite all this, I can’t help but think:
What are the odds it could happen again?
Matt Whiteman
Kendra Foster
justintilson
lauraroy
wloudon
sradoff
Ricardo Segovia
Caitlin O'Leary
jsma126
0 Responses to “Inverted sonnet reconsidering travel by rail to Kampala”