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| photo by Bruno Abarco © |
impermanent actors onstage, in a character poem
terminal late train
near empty platform
slow crawling through smells
of diesel and dust
raw bloomed gravity
turns rain
to muffled cries above
I hear the train
I explain to myself
the story of angels
demons too, alive
and on benches
waiting with me
tunneling corners
more neutral
than I had thought
in the lurch squeal
a column of air
pushes against my face
a nearing stopped
linear whorl
of electric white light
is framed in metal curves
and windowed doors
a conductor is directing
and about to open
the curtains
there are only a few aboard
I chose the far end embark
thinking, I might retrace
the steps midnight placed
getting back to Dawn
while the others, few
waiting with me
for the late train, knew
to take another door
another cue
another car
the other parts
of this poem too
EJR ©
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