Night Shift (v. 2)

Night Shift (v. 2)

The train woke us, pulled us to the window.
You parted the curtains and showed me
the grain elevator, lifting in pale yellow light
above the train's errand and our untied robes.

The train dissolved on the ladder tracks behind us,
hushing its whistle in the trees, and the elevator
remained a vertical view of quiet delivery.
The graveyard shift, you said. Yes, I said,

I could do this until the rain runs backwards,
until the grain sprouts underground,
until the train returns with it's song,
sending us back to bed, so we can rise
and join them again in this
patterned route of up, down,
hello, goodbye, then back again.