At night
walking the tracks
I saw a garden in pots
behind a cyclone fence and razor wire.

Train whistles
a lonely call
between parallel rails
glistening dry
orange lamp light.

Hours before your mouth moved an ocean.
Your round face sky blue midnight moon.
Who’s light graces your cheekbones?

I wish I were the sun
for a day
and a night
lighting smiles
on your round face.

But I am only the kiss of land and sea
as you pass
hunting alone.