POEM BY CHLOE KOUTSOUBELIS
THE TICKET
I purchased a train ticket
to come and find you.
So simple to get onto a train
with the operator, the money collector, other passengers
rails touching the ground
and all stops pre-announced.
I forgot how black the train of love is.
It burns coal and every hope
with a blind eye and a gaping mouth
an orchid engine forever hungry
it groans rhythmically
like a gigantic serpent
in and out the fearful tunnels.
I forgot how lonely the train of love is.
The inspector often
validates the tickets
and the money collector
a wax resemblance
always waiting at the station.
I purchased a train ticket
to come and find you.
As if I didn’t know the voyage is always the same
and who to look for in the deserted station.
Manolis 