Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2015
Today the air inside of the C train
is as cold as a stillborn. Today
is the first day in a week that I am
riding the subway desperate to meet nobody.
A row of faces across from me,
some thin like my mother’s and some
swelling with ghosts the way yours
does. I do not love any of them.
Picture: us standing with snow pale
as the body of a grandmother beneath
our feet. Picture: bruises and teeth marks
lining my body like the passengers of this subway
lining the orange and yellow seats.
Your hands were strong enough to break gods.
loisa fenichell
Written by
loisa fenichell  ny
   Devon Webb, ---, JDK and Pea
Please log in to view and add comments on poems