I stumbled across these in my travels. So tragic and haunting…
The Luna Park Ghost Train
For the Seven Dead in the Luna Park Fire,
Sydney, June 9, 1979
– Galway Kinnell
Today they stand still,
the great fright machines-the doughbeater
which lifted, turned, plunged, yells
of terror in each fist, the fluted pan
which threatened to throw into space
anyone who could shut up, the octoped
which turned victims upside down and jiggled,
rotated, pummelled until enough noise
fell out; and the bright cars do not move,
which wandered overhead, teetered, plunged,
then crawled back and went on wandering;
and the Ghost Train waits, which jerked
screaming hugged and also screaming hugger
by the light of bones through the dark cellars.
Accustomed to all the cries pitched every night
across the water lights, each so like each other
it seemed one permanently terrified girl
must be screaming them all, we who live around Lavender Bay
last night sat up startled, from laughter, or lovemaking,
or the sound of Beethoven exalting both these,
as the screams suddenly pierced our worlds by right of terror.
Today the Ghost Train, charred, and laden with ashes
of seven souls and the bafflement of families,
does not have any special glory to go to.
It must merely wander into the natural world
where all are born, where all suffer, where many scream,
where the lost are not healed but gathered and used again.