On the Train Tracks

PASSENGER ON TRAIN FROM CHARLESTON TO COLUMBIA, 1835

 

Feeling sick on the train,

I think to look out the front,

and what do I see

but someone upon the tracks.

“Stop! Stop!

Stop the engine!”

The train jolts to a halt

too late.

There lay a Negro man and his leg,

the blood flowing into the gravel,

the bone cut in two.

A stranger hauls him up,

says he’s heavy too,

and ties the wound with rags.

We hear him moan,

calling for his mother,

and then he is silent.

I don’t know what happened

after that,

but I suspect he was dead.