NaPoWriMo 12

Woman Escapes Death After Being Pushed to Subway Tracks

Something in me derails when I hear the story
of a woman who was pushed into the path
of an oncoming train. Moments before,
she must have braced her body,
rolled herself in the trough between tracks,
everything inside of her soul clamping down,
her breasts pressed tight against her body,
her face, face down in the deluge of melted snow
and cigarette butts and piss.

And what about this stranger? No descriptions,
no arrests—his presence just an echo
in the hollows of the station. That presence
washes through me, leaving me dumbstruck
as I ride next to men who can do unspeakable things,
coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other.
Part of me wants to lay my body down
feel the vibration left from the steel wheel's screech,
only to be pulled out from under by rescuers
and morning commuters. I need this sheer terror
so that I may never take death for granted
or cheat myself out of living.


Anonymous said…
I think this is a great poem, Janurary. There's something in it that I needed to read tonight, so I am happy I crawled out of my NaPoWriMo cave to stop by. I'm glad you are doing NaPoWriMo, too. It’s much more emotionally exhausting than I anticipated. Almost half way through, though.
Anonymous said…
I was reading your posts backwards and hadn't yet seen your post about Phebus. I am really sorry.
January said…
Thanks Dana.

I'm physically exhausted from NaPoWriMo. I get less sleep, have less free time to visit blogs, and I've stopped working out--at least this week. Also, I think my poems are crappy. But, we're almost halfway through it.
Catherine said…
Jan, there's no way your poems are crappy. Even if you edit them later, they are already full of wonderful touches. Like the use of the word "derails" in the first line of this one. It is spot on for the subject.
Leila said…
whoosh. that one took my breath away. fantastic. i think it's perfect. :-)

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