"Five-Twenty Train" by Kate Maxwell
Five-Twenty Train
Arms rotate
around another circle
until your obsessive
eyeballing
of the wall
your wrist, the screen
is finally rewarded
with the realisation
that release
is close enough
to project
soon-leaving-you
into the stuffy desperation
of the five-twenty train.
If you make it.
But you’re not there
yet. Just a yearning
in your mind. Still more
and more sold minutes
for your stiff face
stoic shoulders
to shudder out
stale coffee sighs
in metronome
of maddening wait
while you sit rolling
ankles, cracking neck
above the keyboard
giving words up
to a screen or wire
spiralling your ear.
What if future you
never collects
their bag, scatterings
of exit platitudes
and coat to feel the rush
and fresh of outside
the weight of waiting end?
What if these stretched
out seconds
ticking louder
in your temple are the last
you ever spend?
Final moments squandered
to the gristle groan
of economic need
as you edge closer
to the end of something
something you believe
is surely not
mere barter of your dying
cells for mortgage fees
but increments
of new tomorrows.
Photo Credit: Staff