“Leaving Town on the 8:05”

Leaving Town on the 8:05

A fringe of buildings, the last section
of town, then the rubbish, the rot
and, finally, into the open fields.
Framed by the clattering window, trees fist
the sky, and my sighs mist the view. What
to do now with the pulsing sway but shut
my eyes and wake to find the carriage dimmed.
Night throbs beyond the glass – lights spangling
the blackness. Day and time erased,
you slide into my mind, no holding you
back once you’re in: remembering you
in the wrinkled sand, your hands tasting
the salt of my hips, surf singing
louder than these tracks beneath my breathing.

Tagged: Poetry