The Tunnel (poem)
The Tunnel
They two
bent like marsh grass under the prow
of a canoe that glides through fog of daybreak
And here the air filled
with a delicate miasma too
They had reason leaning towards each other
to feel safe emerging from the tunnel
They might have stepped down
Their rings ringing
Against the chipping paint of the iron
railing
Weighing themselves pressed heavily
pushed the uprights from the concrete
crumbling at its base
One day it will all fall
And full of bafflement
the accident investigator
will mark the pool in the stairwell
Another entering alone
Shoulder blades shown projecting through
his coat in the harsh light of the
halogen lamp overhead
Heads down one level and the next
The drop onto the tracks
is but a sleep
The Tunnel
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(2016, Stephanie Foster)