The Wappinschaw Reminiscence

We stared west across the plain

Watched the earth drop away

White line

Vanishing point

Our ears to the rail

for surely our train was coming

The earth will tremble beneath us

long before that black blot appears

Growing from purple horizon beyond

Phantom hands seek

Reaching for us

Drowning floods

Consuming fires


We become fossils in the concrete

Of some future race