Commuters

The steel lines follow and stop,
no argument breached
in the vague animosity of stale air
attended with aimless glance and slick gloss
of shoe, raincoat, case, umbrella.

To a fanfare of lurching creaks
I am born, birthed inelegant
to a churning crowd, hive mind,
that is skating hither and thither.
A frenzied nest
At the centre
of a black cathedral.

I crouch, sick and flinching
inside
clawing the shrinking walls
begging some fell apocalypse
to empty the trammelled lines these blank maps slide over
and take them away forever.

Or for me to cradle myself
foetal, shaking, weeping darkly in some cold corner
far from these crowding phantoms
that purring, tolerate by cycle and rote
that which jars so wildly
and throws me into disarray and aching panic
weighing my soul a little lighter with each new day.

And until that time,
Until horizons scatter them on ever walking paths
Away, away from me
Cowed, wan and silent
I can scarce breathe.