BETWEEN STATIONS OF THE METRO

 

How wonderfully it all matches the black bough:
Her artificial leg she sways as flesh. Fingers forking
His beard and the thinning images he considers.
A boy's grin held by two cheeks. Fists. Simple
And unprovoked, like our apparitions we share
Each morning, en passant, from crests of departure
To whatever we still believe possible. How silly.
How silly to think we all reemerge as petals—pulled
Loose. Bereft of what kept us from the rain.

Daniele Pantano    07.07.2009