Monday, June 02, 2003

Poem of the Week

Commuter
by PJ Kavanagh

Deaf and dumb lovers in a misty dawn
On an open railway platform in the Dordogne
Watched each other's hands and faces,
Making shapes with their fingers, tapping their palms,
Then stopped and smiled and threw themselves
Open-mouthed into each others' arms

While the rest of us waited, standing beside our cases.
When it arrived she left him and climbed on the train
Her face like dawn because of their conversation.
Then she stepped down, grabbed his neck in the crook of her arm,
Gave him the bones of her head, the bones of her body violently.
Then climbed on again alone. Her face hardened
In seconds as we moved away from their island.
Tight-lipped she looked around for a seat on the sea.

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