NaPoWriMo #28

Rolling Hulks

Exibit chesspiece,
Leviathan, foreigner, imported, cast iron, steel-alloy, turntable, turnpike,
contacts ignite, piston rupture.
Walking round, tripped by invisible
wires between men and their cameras.
Iron giants – immobilised, geriatric, asleep.

Oil on the air, in the lungs –
sorry, excuse me – Finley, come here! –
Excuse me. Stephenson’s there, Gresley’s
grizzling in the corners, counting the lubricate spots on drip-trays
and the days until fire breathes in the smokebox,
pending steps on the footplate, shattering pressure to release, to accelerate.

.

With thanks to the NRM, York.

Too openly fond of rail history,

Fionn Coughlan-Wills.