Midnight Stanza
She leans close to me—
whispers teasing words
in my ear
before she turns to place one foot
on the metal stair—
the porter close behind
silhouette in a train window
red mouth open in passionate message
pressed up close
enough to read soft meaning
in the moving of her lips
One finger spells out a beginning
then an epitaph
on the fogged
glass of a chill morning—
symbols that breathe patterns
in ecstatic swirls and melting silence—
composes a love letter I strain
in vain to read in the haze
of my racing heart
Lines blur as the train
moves down the tracks
The poem gathers speed and disappears
around a bend
leaves me on the platform
of my bed at 3 a.m.—
in my hand a dog-eared schedule
I search for something to write
She leans close to me—
whispers teasing words
in my ear
before she turns to place one foot
on the metal stair—
the porter close behind
silhouette in a train window
red mouth open in passionate message
pressed up close
enough to read soft meaning
in the moving of her lips
One finger spells out a beginning
then an epitaph
on the fogged
glass of a chill morning—
symbols that breathe patterns
in ecstatic swirls and melting silence—
composes a love letter I strain
in vain to read in the haze
of my racing heart
Lines blur as the train
moves down the tracks
The poem gathers speed and disappears
around a bend
leaves me on the platform
of my bed at 3 a.m.—
in my hand a dog-eared schedule
I search for something to write