Jill Khoury

Karma

After Track Man by Pete Eckert

How does the skeleton
cross the rails? It involves
dislocating his sacrum,

shivering like an Impressionist.
Half of him lingers on the near
side, beam of spirit, miracle film.

His curses reverberate
off squat factory buildings,
flutter like crumpled notes

to settle on packed dirt,
meager grass. He’s the last
cowboy in this town.

Church rafters evaporate
into a sky the color of ash.
All the people have rusted away.