No more
excuses left—
Saint Paul here she comes now
riding the Green Line LRT
at last.
rails
Saudade Scraps
The crumbs
she brushes off
the table will become
the place
she dreams
of reaching by train
before civil dawn. And
the rhythm
she feels
will overpower anything
any one
of us might hear.
No Access
A different cast
of characters, the chain
of cause and effect drapes
across the same
forbidden entrance. She burns
through them too intensely
on an old diesel train
passing through towns
named after men
she knew for a night
or two on the way
to more. She never got off
the rails long enough
to recognize how she was using
up this allotment
just as she used up
all her drink tickets
half a lifetime
too soon. Now she never gets off
at all. Better to listen
to that rhythmic chug and roll
from inside this coach class car.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 