snatched esther from the path of the maine central locomotive,
racing the engine while the fireman crawled out
in the hope of a rescue,
an impossible rescue.
they saw esther on the tracks.
set their brakes
but the train was so heavy,
it ran a quarter mile more
before
screeching
to a
stop.
in that wrenching stretch
the men were certain they’d killed her.
can’t hardly think of anything
but leanora sutter
in my kitchen last winter, wrapped in my best quilt,
and yesterday, esther, wrapped in
leanora,
inches from the railroad tracks,
safe in a nest of dandelion.