Time Machine

By Brendan Dawson

Today I rode in a time machine
to a destination I did not intend
by way of a steel tracked 
and metal jacket wrapped slow moving train

I was transported to another space
one I thought I had passed
when behind me came a sound
in rhythmic taps and echoes I had forgotten

Metallic bolts slammed and caps expanded 
as empty brass tins tingled into my ears
the call and response of calibers chatted 
at a frequency measured in millimeters

I swiveled to confront the source 
a boy of no more than ten years
gliding thumbs against a glowing electronic device
mimicking the selection from safe to automatic

But without effort or consequence
the boy, too, seemed to be in another place
his concentrated eyes balanced over grinned lips
his tunneled attention held in illusion’s grasp

Soon the time machine slowed
ground to a stop 
and the boy departed 
under a parent-pulled arm

I found myself staring out the window
In an unfamiliar station across long fields

****

Brendan Dawson is an American poet and former US Military servicemember. Brendan’s work is shaped by his combat experience and military service with a focus on exploring the ethical weight of leadership and the liminal spaces during and after conflict. Brendan has published widely in literary journals and is at work on a collection of poems centered on his departure from a career in the military and return to civilian life.