A check of the glass,
a nod from the Fireman,
and I eased the regulator wide open.
Power flowed in perfect synchrony and we accelerated with a howl.
A protest.
Defiance against the night,
against the rain that lashed the windows and ran rivulets across our flank,
against every priest whose God never designed us to travel so rapidly.
In the hellscape of the firebox, mortal remains of Carboniferous forests underwent their second death.
Water, even such as that which fell now from heaven, pushed aside physics and biology in pursuit of alchemical bliss.
Steam and iron, rails, rods, wheels and lubrication, carried us ever onward.
Fire and Water
Pressure and Release
These are the elements of my Locomotive Heart.
© 2026, Andrew Clayton
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