6:55 departure.

I am alone
on this blue vinyl seat
in the center
of this murmuring flock.

I am shouting
against my closed lips while
I look them in the eyes
and count.

a running child with ketchup
on his three year old face

a silent man with low eyes and
twitching mustache

a screaming diamond on the
finger of the woman in red pants

they are all leaving here
while I sit on cold vinyl
and am left uncounted
because I am alone.

© january 23.2012 heather brager

vision is a septal defect.

you will envisage
a reaction to misplaced rhythm

buried within my soft torso
your forearm quarrying, into the cavern

covetous, your hand thrusting past
my unhinged jaw, my meted throat

you will not see, grasping
but it is hanging in my eyes

© january 4.2012 heather brager