Justin Carter

In the Country We’d Lost

The locomotive sings the cracked air,
a hurl of noise, of mystery. Sitting here
in the dirty truck, I wonder how the world looks. 

Perhaps it’s like this: a half-shadow,
an unknown motion
against these gathered storm clouds. 

A lonesomeness here. Universe adrift
inside the rubble. The train finally passes:
more thunder, more thunder. 

I make a metaphor of whatever I can.
Orange glow of headlights, streaks
of last week’s chili on a floorboard napkin. 

There’s something wrong outside.
All we have though is this hope
it won’t last long. Not too long. 

Tonight, I need you like teeth
need something solid. Tonight,
we fight the growing dark 

with these words. Electricity
only works until the next bill comes;
understanding only while the train roars.

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Justin Carter is a poet/sports writer living in Des Moines, Iowa. His poems appear in The Adroit Journal, Bat City Review, The Journal, Sonora Review, Sycamore Review and other spaces. He holds a PhD in English from the University of North Texas.