local_library Sunset Trains

by Allison Jenks

Published in Issue No. 4 ~ July, 1996

Defenses stretched along your swampy skin.
I’ve been funnelled inside you,
Swallowed into the spine
of your wine-filled drums.

Convince me of your kiss
Then I’ll owl right back
inside myself, forgetting it all.

It’a a matter of letting things go that
I still feel for,
Not listening to the sunset trains that pass
miles of rainy corn heading for laughing cities.

I want to sleep at all the places
You feel at home.
There’s always a fire in someone
to feel but what burns in you
are from the youngest, warmest blood.

I want to come into you so hard
That I can see myself through your eyes
at angles mirrors won’t show me.
I want the parts of your mind
that you hide the dogs
to fill our new planet.

Find me nearly dead as
Clover hills dance around my fear
with the moonlit porch of my future

I can hear my name running in
the frosted notes that paint my hands
when you hold them.

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Allison Jenks' poems have appeared in : New Orleans Review, Art Times, Wisconsin Review, American Literary Review, and Midwest Poetry Review. She was a James A. Michener fellow, awarded by John Balaban, at the University of Miami's M.F.A. program, where she was Editor In Chief of Mangrove.