steel arc__

Church Avenue station, Q train, 9pm, Jan. 18th, 2014
A freezing night in an open air station. I was waiting to meet nine guys for a film shoot. How could I tell from a distance that one of these two would write a poem? I don’t know, but I could tell. I see the subway in a new way. He is a writer.

If it were
something as
simple as an
artery. Like cells
could have angst
about the next
stop, or joy at
the face behind
closing door.
It is alive in
more ways than
metaphors of flesh.
Steel arc
the narrative of
humming wealth and
poverty on the
tracks in between.

Read a poem by Elizabeth M.

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