SALLY CONSIDERS TAKING THE TRAIN AWAY by Rachel Custer

Behind its whistle, the train gathers
her gaze, skipping like a pebble

toward anyplace else. (As if away
was a place she might belong.

As if away was a song.)

Sally’s eyes desired
a city full of men

to pocket their cries like afterthoughts.

In the city no man loves
you like a country

man loves you, with cold hands
roughened by early work.

What woman needs it anyway?

that particular gentleness
men save for mornings after

fields? City: a proliferation of eyes,
unmet. City: a nakedness.

Strutting around like god
knows who might see.


Photo by Hendrik Wieduwilt, used and adapted under CC.