Pulling Into Grand Central Station...... Poem by John Tansey

My feet sliding over the metal grating,
I stand in the doorway of a railroad car
barreling into station;
drops of rain water, leaking from the rivets,
beat with a hollowness
upon my fist, tightly gripping the rusted rail.

This train wends the curved tracks like a millstone.
The grind of iron against iron
break squeal and sparks, flying
from the under cars, combust with the taste
of rain and ore upon my tongue.

Immersed in the damp darkness
of the tunnels, like a microbe
invading the body’s hardened arteries,
I plumb like a worm through the earth
counting the pillars as grave markers.

Loosening my grip, I split the atom
of stone, iron, flesh and rain,
the essential elements of earth...
And am one haphazard half -step away