All shhh-ing down tracks
he cannot stop
The train is dropping off a heart,
the brown box jitters in the storage rack
the leaves on the track
slip circle like seeds in molars.
The man, Mark, pretends to look for texts,
stares at the black lake screen of no affection
and sees mandrake roots, reed bundled birds,
a balloon with a tag marked
‘you are a knot’.
The papers are scrambled,
hope, all omlette;
he watches a rain drop inch to the edge,
his knee notes the engine change,
everyone’s head says ‘you made yours eggless’,
now she is message dead
and the puncture wound is a pocket.
The box on the rack jitters,
the leaves slip circle like seeds in molars
the train drops off a heart.
