One Past’s Present Absence

Train tracks cut through the grey
Winter woods, rough scrub brush,
Really, what grew itself

Back around the steel tracks.
A woman walked the ties,
Looking for any clues

Of her missing grown son,
A picture in the news,
Frozen in the moment

Of its particular
Circumstances, that place,
The there-ness of the tracks,

The thin scraps of new snow,
The tangled, bare branches,
The scattered piles of wood,

The woman’s round shoulders
In her dark anorak,
Black pant legs in gum boots,

No animals or birds
Anywhere in the view,
No sign of her lost son.