Today's prompt made me think about the story I've been telling and about the mysterious disappearance of the woman's husband. The town I keep mentioning in the poems, Freestone, had a railroad station dating back to the 1850s. And anywhere there was a railroad, there were likely railroad accidents. There is still an old collapsed tunnel a few miles away from my house and it always haunts me as I pass by it. There is something about the collapse of a tunnel that is horrifying. I started thinking about the memory of the accident and how she would have been able to feel the accident as if she had been in it. This poem explores that idea. Here is my short draft:
How Do You Teach Pain?
Look deep into the delicate shafts of dark railway tunnels and forget the light. Remember the press of dirt. The way air burns away.
Gather blue stars of forget-me-nots, constellations of Queen Anne’s Lace, the sweet smell of wild pink roses.
Listen to a wooden house ache in winds that sweep up at night.
Follow footprints before they are swept away.