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.