Scott Sowerby

August 18, '97 - Yorkshire
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On Trains - edit

The lights from the station platform
Flicker on the floor of the carriage
As the train pulls away into the dark

My fingers and toes counteract
The toing - froing, pushing
Hard into the floor and handrail

Under the my fingers white
Knuckled stoney eyed. I stare
Through the rectangular port hole

Decades of brake dust
Knees faces twitches
I camera I Atlas I float

I stare. Keep the reel moving
Flashing in my periphery
My alloted fraction of light

The silent film enacted
In parallel carriage world
Is engrossing. I am reading

Each scene with ease each
Synchronised bob a picture
Worthy of a lack of words

Who leans against the brakes?
The tracks quake ghosts
The viscous pull of arrival

Strapping myself into a restraint
On Rita The Queen Of Speed
And donning my crash helmet

I am suddenly careening out
Of a mundane gossipy episode.
Obliterating the worn out set.

Fuck it I'm thinking - lights out
Yous can all come with me
I arrive out of darkness

The doors slide open
The illusion shatters
Seeing holes in the siver screen
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