Thrown Under the Train

 

Thrown Under the TrainI never saw the engine bearing down,
though now the iron bites into my back.
Tied fast between the rails that lead to town,
I feel the shudder coming down the track. I’d do it all again, my love, lie down
and let the wheels remake me if you asked.
What I can give is never quite enough;
whatever I become falls short, unmasked. So maybe I was careless with the gift,
never believed in rationing my breath
or hoarding courage for a different shift.
I spilled it out. You couldn’t care less. You are the trip beneath my stumbling feet,
the only one who gets completely in,
lodged under skin where blood and longing meet—
you’ve always lived there, where the hurt begins. It’s been so long since love required a fight,
and winning it would only mean more loss.
I fall, and falling almost feels like flight
until I wake and count the double cost. I cannot pardon your deliberate touch
that gave me just a taste, a salt-sharp hint
of what a body opens to, too much
and not enough to keep me from this print of wheels upon my chest. So maybe I
should learn at last to measure what I spend,
but caution was a language I passed by.
I gave it all. You couldn’t care less.