Magic Markers by Rose Mary Boehm

The memory train
passes stations
that have long since closed for service.
Eyes in windows – hollow black sockets –
follow the dreamer.

Nameless things with wings
are leaving the eaves,
rising up high into mindspace,
settling softly on flotsam
ostensibly discarded eons ago
to lighten the journey.

Wondrous transformation:
sackcloth and ashes
become precious lace
with the help of magic markers.