Poem “Those Trains in Carbondale” by David L O’Nan

Those Trains in Carbondale

One evening, in a Carbondale storm
Seersucker soaked in mud
The train is running hours late
I ran tracks through the Shawnee Forest
I have climbed up from all the ruin
Just to see you again, to change your hate.

I have written these sonnets for you
These roads are the best I could buy
In the winds they are destruction
To the petals, and the thorns begin to cut
around the plate of my right index nail.

As this monsoon bites and eats away at me
I'm beginning to feel like an April's fool
I can envision you and your angry stare and
The thousands of miles you've traveled
To find new shells.

I wandered, I stumble, I am a walking fever dream
I meditate on the old rock under the moonlit kiss
By the oak tree, I remember you called me your restless,
your restless sapphire diamond eyes
I sleep often in that old bookstore
That you worked at for over 2 years and dream about the past
When you smiled at me everytime I came in.

I began to think I was more than your sapphire eyes
Appointed a prophet for my words
I thought I could write through an Apostolic veil
When all the wrong crowds began to pull at your chords.
And all the drugs, and all the influential eyes began
to dissect me from all my chemistry. I know I am damned.
And the missiles ignite in the fog
Paddling me with the breath of the monsters
Every night they hover over me in my bed.

I live in silent prayers, with you in my mind
In a trance traveling to your warmth
It is so cold, waiting in arctic rains
"I Wouldn't Be Surprised" playing in my ears 
the Bobbie Gentry muffles in with the pellets of sleet
Waiting for a train that already left.


 Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. 

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