Iron serpent slithers on
Carving its way
Through winter’s white
I am all alone in this boxcar
Shaking from the cold,
Shaking from fright

All I wish all that I desire
Sun-brewed wine, dish of Roman fire

There is a mutiny down below
Legs that won’t bend
Lungs that won’t shout
Thoughts go dripping from my mind
They freeze in the air
And shatter about.