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Writing Contest 2009
Poetry Winner
Megan Sinnott
Portland Community College
The Engine Driver’s Wife
When I hear the train’s cry
Traveling down 185th Avenue
I think of all the people
Who hear it. The ones tossing
In their lumpy beds, the sound
Echoing in their dreams.
The houses by the railroad,
How they shake and shiver at the noise,
All the silverware shimmying
In its broken wooden drawer.
I think of the engine driver, the earplugs
He wears to block out the sound
Of the wheels scraping against
The metal rails, how he nods
Off to sleep now and then, the landscape
Of the Pacific Northwest as dull as the Nebraska
Cattle fields he used to drive through. I think
Of his wife sitting by the window, knitting
A blanket for their first grandchild.
I think of the worry lines in her face
After all the months of listening
For the train’s horn in the distance.
And lastly I think of you
Standing in the rain that soaks
Through your thin jacket to your bones
As you wait to shut down
The gas pumps for the night
And ride through the storm on your bicycle,
Park in the backyard and open the glass
Door of my house, as if you had never left.