X. J. Kennedy poem, "Cross Ties"

Cross Ties

Out walking ties left over from a track
Where nothing travels now but rust and grass,
I half-believe in something that would pass
Growing to hurtle from behind my back
And when the night wind slams by, give a start:
Out of its mass the disembodied wail
Of a far night-shift like a bag of mail
Is flung. Moon looms, her headbeam rips apart
A cloud and strews it. Wings thrash: down to strafe
The crouched grass drops a mousehawk. There’s a screech
As steel stretched taut till severed. Out of reach
Or else beneath desiring, I go safe,
Walk on, tensed for a leap, unreconciled
To a dark void all kindness.
                                                                         When I spill
The salt I throw the Devil some and, still,
I let them sprinkle water on my child.

                                                              -X. J. Kennedy

From Paris Review issue no. 31 (Winter–Spring 1964)
Thanks to Eva H.D. for the heads-up