today your sunken eyes
gaze out from your weak bones
through your weathered flesh.

lines under your sunken eyes are
deep ravines
with whitewater rivers;

your skin is marked with craters.

your eyes look out and gaze:
a stream rushes, sheep graze.
morning sunlight's gleam
blesses pine-crowned peaks.

bones rattle along
with the rattling of the train coach,
gliding over cold train tracks;
bones listen to the squealing
of every turn.

last night you were pacing around,
your feet pattering
over the bathroom's cold black tiles.

you were wondering then
about how
you let yourself slip
so far
how you let yourself love
so deeply.

you were wondering
who will clean your blood
from the cold black tiles,
who will wipe away
the rivulets of your tears.

how long will it take him
to appear,
to come back?
your bones grew weak
with all your pacing,
with all your wondering.

the mountain ridge,
Creation's pride and joy,
vanishes all at once,
surrendering to
the tunnel's cold blackness.

the train coach rattles
along the train tracks;
you feel it in your bones.