In the Douglas Valley
in November does not bleach
glass to silver, but settles darkness
here, where the two-train railway
that runs through the valley
road that collapsed its steel vein.
In a fuller moonlight
neat silver might belly the clouds,
gild slips where wet
surfaces mirror the sky, maybe.
here to drain the swamps, could
enmesh the ground in thin light
each to their own impermeable
thicket of shadow.
rails and water would shine,
rain be a glistening afterthought — but
under cover of new moon,
pulling up, the tracks
twist themselves out of the ground
into such shapes
of metallic logic as
no human mind could bear.
Listen to SK Johnson read ‘In the Douglas Valley‘
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SK Johnson is working on an MA in English at Victoria University in Wellington, after completing an MA in Creative Writing at Victoria’s IIML. She has previously had her work published in Valley Micropress and JAAM.