<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</SPAN></span>
<h2 class="nobreak">TRACK-WORKERS</h2>
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<div class="verse">The rails you carry cut into your hands,</div>
<div class="verse">Like the sharp lips of an unsought lover.</div>
<div class="verse">As you stumble over the ties</div>
<div class="verse">Sunlight is clinging, yellow spit</div>
<div class="verse">Raining down upon your faces.</div>
<div class="verse">You are the living cuspidors of day.</div>
<div class="verse">Dirt, its teasing ghost, dust,</div>
<div class="verse">And passionless kicks of steel, fill you.</div>
<div class="verse">Flowers sprouting near the tracks,</div>
<div class="verse">Brush their lightly odoured hands</div>
<div class="verse">In vain against your stale jackets of sweat.</div>
<div class="verse">Within you, minds and hearts</div>
<div class="verse">Are snoring to the curt rhythm of your breath.</div>
<div class="verse">You do not see this blustering blackbird</div>
<div class="verse">Promenading on a barbed-wire fence.</div>
<div class="verse">He eyes you with spritelike hauteur,</div>
<div class="verse">Unable to understand</div>
<div class="verse">Why your motions endlessly copy each other,</div>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</SPAN></span>
<div class="verse">One of you, a meek and burly Pole,</div>
<div class="verse">Peers a moment at the strutting blackbird</div>
<div class="verse">With a fleeting shade of dull resentment....</div>
<div class="verse">There is always one among you</div>
<div class="verse">Who recoils from glimpsing corpses.</div>
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