i step into the subway train
as the wheels grind & groan
the comfort of routine descend
from passing buildings & trees
my thoughts wander
wayward as dandelion fluffs
over the skyway of cars
over bridges of street art & protests
this space is unbothered by time
this dark tunnel is a fog of poems
this window overlooks gravity
& spots a majestic bird of prey flying
carrying me
over faceless passengers glued to screens
& hurried texts & to-do-lists-
how far do I go?
what unknown stops await me?
my eyes rest on the valley of blue
where the lake calms & cajoles
a murmuration of birds
until a whistle breaks
rudely intrudes my train of thoughts
my subway stop is here,
my seat is cold metal & plastic
my backpack weighs a ton
mind the gap (subway sign)
footsteps & faces crowd in
the city, whose clock hurries by
Rick Amor (Australian) “The Agent,” 2019 Oil on canvas 81 x 117 cm
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry in Liminal Spaces, hosted by Dora. Thanks for the visits and comments.
this thought space in a crowded train so visual Grace and I love all the 'mys' at the end leading into mind but these two lines struck such a chord:
ReplyDelete"this space is unbothered by time
this dark tunnel is a fog of poems"
I love the play on words in your title, "mind the gap," because your mind frees itself in "the gap" of the subway journey and defies time, "dark tunnel," even gravity to waft with the dandelion seeds and the birds of the air. Marvelous gap, marvelous poem, Grace.
ReplyDeleteI can really feel the space being trapped in that train... and very much the same here, when I go into town more regularly...
ReplyDeletei feel a lot like this every time time i use the London tube.
ReplyDeleteThe liminal is the personal subway on the subway route, reverie riding hidden under and inside the rails it persists until reality intrudes with a screech of this-world brakes. Love it ...
ReplyDelete"this dark tunnel is a fog of poems"
ReplyDeleteAwesome phrase
much🤍love
I love the interplay of nature and manmade in your poem!
ReplyDeleteThese lines stood out to me:
ReplyDelete"this space is unbothered by time
this dark tunnel is a fog of poems
this window overlooks gravity"
It's the way I often feel on a train (or even a car, if I'm not driving).
It has been a long time since I have ridden on the trains in the city but I always found the ride not unlike this...where I would be taken out of myself. I really liked the following lines
ReplyDeletethis space is unbothered by time
this dark tunnel is a fog of poems
I think I'd find a fog poems on that ride.
The imagery is gorgeous and serene to me all the way until the whistle that marks your stop. And then you’re warned to watch the gap when you’re about to step into a hurried place where the clock runs nonstop in the city. Lovely Grace. I like this. Thanks. Please watch the gaps, indeed. Selma Martin
ReplyDeleteDespite the insistence of the train imagery and experience, Grace you have taken me to the blue valley "where the lake calms & cajoles/ a murmuration of birds ", and I am grateful xxx
ReplyDeleteA very nice train of thoughts, Grace. Lost in that liminal space of traveling home at the end of a hard day. Well done.
ReplyDeleteReally love the visual contrasts between mind/reality and overground/underground in this one! Having ridden the NYC subway yesterday for the first time in years, I found it thrilling to let my mind wander the way you let yours.
ReplyDeleteI remember the recorded messages at every stop..."Mind the gap". Gently but firmly and respectfully. And mind it we did!!
ReplyDeleteTrain journeys in general are places where time stops, and that in itself can be unsettling, a place where only thoughts chug in relentlessly.
ReplyDeleteI love 'mind the gap'. It reminds me of fun trips to London. A super poem, Laura.
ReplyDeleteI really like the imagery of "fog of poems." It's so nice to have those escapes of the mind to get us through the cold and dark!
ReplyDeleteI love “this dark tunnel is a fog of poems”
ReplyDeleteand the abrupt return to the not-so-liminal space in “my subway stop is here,
my seat is cold metal & plastic”
and “footsteps & faces crowd in
the city, whose clock hurries by”