the suicide tracks

They call them the suicide tracks
slick with ice and remnants of mourning lace
skin still clinging to the metal undersides
where women lay down their souls
seeking salvation in the outbound train
to where their men await them
somewhere beyond the clouds
lost in the glory of the civil war

I’ve lost count of the coffins
we’ve hewn from frozen wood
dismembered youth and age rattling against
the horse drawn wagon
to be lowered into the ground
their spirits now far from where
we’ll lay their bodies to rest
the cemetery barely a stone’s throw away
from the railroad tracks

© Indie Adams 2015

Written for Madam Lavender's "Pick a List" comp, List #1