the glass fogs as we pass the cities

where others like us used to live once

the eldest tells us, it's dangerous to look

at naked ruins / past, the glass unfogs into

a clear view of the nothing / dangerously

the train's heartbeat increases, its hum

under our soles becomes a bated breath

its rexine cradle turns a retching lurch

the eldest tells us, the faster we go

the closer we are to stopping / we are

all of us reflections in this crowded coach

watching the nothing as it passes by

slowing down, we see something / a tree

rustling under ashfall / a cliffside shape

patterned with breathing / the train's slow

slither through the tunnel takes us to the

fuel tower on the other side / tentacled pipes

creep out of the blue-lit station & the eldest

tells us it reminds her of petrol pumps that

were always open, letting her vehicle drive

hope through the darkest nights / the hum

returns to the cradle & off we're again

eyes fondling the familiar / the eldest tells us

she fears the nothing more than the ruins

that it's not dangerous, just impossible to look

at a ruin & do nothing about it / fondled, only

two reflections on the glass look at each other

& smile, digging a cave with their bare eyes

in the middle of the crowded compartment

& smile, even though they can only talk in

signs, now distilled from pooling sounds behind

the clearing fog / now smeared by passing lights

~ Ajay
18/11/2020