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Near Laramie, One Hundred Fiftytwo, And Twentytwo, Years Ago
[for Matthew Shepard, in Heaven]
One hundred fifty-two years ago,
while laying the Union Pacific's right of way,
did the workers happen to notice
that desolate stretch of windswept prairie,
perhaps already bob-wired?
There (only twenty-two years ago)
a couple of inhumane male-beasts,
swaggering braggarts with disarming smiles,
and malevolent stares in their eyes,
brutually beat a beautiful young man
within inches of his life, and those inches
gave way to death some shortened days later.
Cold steel rails lie dtraight in parallel lines---
never able to touch, never able to exchange warmth,
never to meet in intimate instersection;
on which roaring locomotives plow forward---
horns shrieking, blasting, apart
silences of the air;
headlights tearing through the still night
with a wicked glare.
Starward
