blue rails, speaking in bullets

I walked home between the railroad tracks, and right beside me they were brilliant blue, though further ahead they were shining silver-white. My eyes playing tricks? No, that blue was a gift from the bright, clear sky to the rails. Here, wear this, just for the moment And the rails obliged.

I read an excellent (if dark) poem over at Strange Horizons, "Jael," by Nancy Hightower. I traveled over to her website to tell her I'd enjoyed it, and found her biography, which started with some bulleted...