Circles And Circles Poem by Gabrielle Martin

Where it ended
was where I

began

heaving my luggage
from the tracks
into the train's

coach

my way through
the countryside
singing hymns of
a religion
I do not believe

in

a merciless god
for whom redemption
is sought and

bargained

with a teller at the booth
who said I was too
pretty to be paying
with

coins

I flipped and came up
heads
(mine on his) I knew I had
not gotten very

far
from home.