Commuter train

(This short poem was written on a train in 2012. It might be seen as a companion to the story ‘Flight’, just added to my Short fiction pages.)

 

The carriage is full of private worlds,

waking and sleeping.

Filling the hot close air,

overlapping, not touching.

And out there more crowding, private spaces –

in houses, cars, streets… –

are separated from these sardine-packed empires

by only a narrow strip of unthought [reality] –

shrubby, twiggy, grassy embankment.

 

As the daylight ebbs and windows turn to mirrors

even that space is colonised by reflections of these reflecting faces.

Until the train escapes into open fields

and a streak of orange light between land and sky

cuts through the embanked mirror people –

a welcome sign of undreamt worlds,

free from mindedness.

 

Copyright © 2014 Fliss Watts

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