Poem - MAG Poetry Prize 2010
The Night Train Steward
by
Dublin, Ireland
With fading bruises of LOVE and HATE, hands
Out of one Purgatory woke me in mine
With a breakfast tray, dawn's jolting demands
Clanking into place down the Euston line.
So the first lone night on the wrong track ended,
Childhood commons now another place,
Our Eden lost, divided, undefended,
Strange labelled fingers spelling out disgrace.
The steel future snaked on to infinity,
A mocking theorem of parallels
Proving indelibly our routes were one,
His sentence in the past and mine begun –
To watch the heavens sweep by our chosen cells,
And get off with a small case of dignity.
Added: 21.04.2010
05.05.2010
I loved the sense of movement in this poem.