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.