by Rebecca Hyland

    In the middle Burlington Northern track,
    videotape yanked from its casing lay
    strewn across the wooden planks like
    a sidewalk suicide.

    It glistens & shivers
    in the moonlight,
    sprawled out like
    a river with arms.

    I wonder what damning
    evidence swims in such
    forsaken waters.

    All I can see is
    the tape guts
    black & final as death,
    like peering into
    the onyx eye of
    a creature you can't tell
    is friendly or not.

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