(for Victor Sunyol)
The crows wheel overhead
I wander through the train station, into the yard.
Sit beside the tracks
just me
and three deer eating the spilled grain.
Smell of the tar and diesel
through warm
bright
quiet sun.
Then it snows.
This is March in Jasper
things can change that fast.
A train pulls into the Atocha station in Madrid, Spain.
Within seconds bombs in backpacks explode.
2,ooo people and more bleeding
bitten
by bombs
and by parts of the train
and parts of others.
“Have I got eyes?” “Have I got a face?” “How am I?” “Is any of me missing?”
They stumble around the train station
sit beside the tracks in the yard.
The morning sun, lukewarm.
Then it rains.
Things can change that fast.
