December 7, 2011


The porter lifts
our bags onto
the fold-down bed.
We lurch through the yard,
rolling, pitching,
getting going,
gathering speed
into the night
until the engine
sounds through
a lonely crossing.
In the dark I feel you,
back against me,
tucked away,
the track clicking
steadily beneath,
the coach rocking us
into sleep, only empty
stations sense our relief.