Angoisse des Gares

Angoisse Des Gares

 

The unborn Pierre looked back dismayed

at the fading light from which he pressed.

 

Ahead a stretching tearing fissure:

Eyes. Masks. Lights and latex fingers.

 

Forceps at his temples. 

Gripping. Pulling. Grunting.

Pain and voices,

 

‘C’est un fils.’ 

 

The umbilicus cut –

another rupture from the one

who gave him a name and

breasts to fix his lips upon.

 

First day at board school

clinging to the woman

he learned to love

and call ‘maman.’

 

‘Don’t be foolish - t’inquiète pas. Au revoir.’

 

His face at the window

balling fists to his eyes

to hold back tears

as her taxi vanished

around the corner 

heading to the Gare du Nord.

 

Stealing from his lover’s bed

leaving a fractured billet-doux:

 

‘You are the loveliest woman I ever knew.

I’m just not good enough for you.’

 

Slow train to the Gare du Sud

new life, new sights, new sounds,

and chances of a new amour.

 

Staring goodbye as the platform slid.

 

Head out - peering towards the bridge

the railway passes under.

 

Hoping she would not be standing there

waving forlorn as he left forever.

 

And hoping,

perhaps,

that she might be.

 

◄ Equinox at Frank's

By Train ►

Comments

Rick

Fri 1st Feb 2019 11:37

Thanks all, much appreciated - just yesterday I wanted to delete this as I did not rate it at all - I was told my (failed O level) schoolboy French was incorrect - anyhow it's now okie d ?

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poemagraphic

Thu 31st Jan 2019 20:02

Rick....

This! This is what WOL is all about my friend.

I adore this wonderful piece of poetry.

Great Job

Po

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Mae Foreman

Thu 31st Jan 2019 19:41

That was lovely! ?
Thank you Rick
Mae

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Clarke

Thu 31st Jan 2019 14:20

Great read.

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Dave Caplan

Thu 31st Jan 2019 13:46

Hi Rick,
If you have french blood in your veins
love is never far away !

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