The night train derails
and a hill of stars spills on the tracks.
Villagers with shovels resting
on their shoulders admire
the shimmering matter, and the station
master in distress scratches an empty sky—
his arms entangle, whiten into a moon.
Under a sycamore tree, an old cat
plays with her shadow and wins.
Behind the gates of mute houses—
with black rocks in their pockets
and red knees, with improvised maps
and sketchbooks of imaginary animals—
the children wait for the next train.