Metro

Danger of death

Metro

 

A life’s script runs abruptly out of lines. No need to worry.

Neither dropped bottle nor platform smash as they collide.

The broken man has drained away in overlapping episodes.

 

A final seizure rattles the jawbones, breaks two teeth,

and the sorry bladderful seeps down the shapeless trousers,

painting its temporary stain across the concrete.

 

Only God hears the silent, glacial cry. This and other things

are and will be over. Turn your head. No need to look.

Life has eaten dignity all away, leaving death to go hungry.

 

With the night’s invasion complete, the men who come

from nowhere will come, scrape up the flaccid corpse,

leaving bottle and platform behind, and disappear back

 

into the unspoken shadows. The collective memory is reset.

No need to dwell. Our Metro is still warm and efficient.

‘Attention,’ says the sober voice. ‘The doors are closing.

 

first published in Here Comes Everyone (Transition Issue), 2016

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