Poem of the Week / Victoria Sanchez

Ghost-Train Dreams

You, middle child, held fast

by a ghost and a body—

an empty vessel

drifting, stranded by the shore.

Bad dreams, bad dreams:

every night, they

duplicate empty-vessel-you.

The train-smoke-trails glide back;

the train track thrusts out into the sea.

Dreams you’ve tied to red-brown sacks

fade on the shore, in varying degrees.

The explosives, black smoke that sleeps

between dreams appease the

greedy little hunger of

those gentle, deceptive ghosts.

And my darling

empty vessel,

your broken

body bends;

the pen,

it stands on end.

The finish line is just


Victoria Sanchez


2 thoughts on “Ghost-Train Dreams

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