“To leave is to die a little.”-Edmond Haraucourt
The subway waiting at the station
Its screeches for us to say goodbye
like a hearse coming to steal you
the forget- me- not limp and wasted with
tears I grip tightly almost strangling the petals.
So this train ride so soon
like sudden death plucked from the world
my world like a green fruit
And the monitor at the station
blinking the last destination
blinking like sirens.
Now the coach is ready to move
Feet lifted and hoisted in goodbye
Slowly drifted wheels
Wheels of no more
The train station empty
now as it descended in the dark hole
with you encased in the coffin -coach
You go into that forgotten depth
That dark subway you slid down on wheels
A bier sending you to a hollow tunnel
And I tossed the strangled wreath still stained with tears
At the last coach.
Twanda Rolle is a teacher poet painter and life enthusiast.Her previous work was published in journals in America and Barbados.