Poetry Blog by Celia (public transport)
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Tags from last 12 months
On my way
Excuse me sir, how long
till Central Station?
Thirtyfiveminutes.
Thirty. Five. Minutes.
Thirty five. Another hour
Or day springs open abyss
Before me, that is, before us
Before I can rest my hand on your shoulder
Causally
And pretend not to expect you there
Or you me.
These minutes are unlike any other
Minute I’ve known on earth
They are viscous, solid,
T...
Friday 12th May 2017 4:41 pm
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