A Death Train - This takes you back to the end of World War One
when more Americans died from the virus (flu) than war.

A DEATH TRAIN

The railroad, has taken those
from crowded streets, away
from blood drying – closer, to
yellow roses in a cluttered
field of holes in earth without
marble.

The railroad, has taken those
from crowded streets crossing empty
land passing bare stalks where corn
once grew - crossing
towns and cities without light.

The railroad once served crowds
spinning high above their means
and now dark corner in life -
night, all are the same.

Breathing not, one on top of one,
a petticoat of lace - one on top of one
carried home to a hollow
grave.

Laughter filled each midnight and
no one cared where you lived or
the color of your skin.

On crowded streets at midnight
voices cheered, and glasses touched,
smoke crossed in front of eyes, music
played at each and every table -
red wine flowed: now we see blood
on tender pink lips.

Voices once a sound of hope are
but a taste of tomorrows dawn.

The railroad is crowded with
the dead, one on top of one -
their last ride - to a simple place
of dirt and stone.