The face in the window looked weary
The reflection was yellow and thin
The moon in the sky was hanging
Plunged into place
Like a nail
A nail in a wall
Chilly and bright.
The train conductor was tired
The train itself had a sparking fuse
Its metal was dark, dead and dreaming
As it clattered and squealed
Screeching, quiet and loud
Along the way
A long, long way
along the track.
The point of arrival was taken
The ticking of clocks became mute
When the midnight rider walked the aisles
In his giant leather boots
The moon stayed there in the sky, firmly like a drum
Silent until it was struck
struck with the edge
the hard edge
of a hammer.