A Subway Train Screams Through Semi-Circles Poem by Abby Koning

a subway train screams through semi-circles
teetering along parallels, swallowing the distance
in one gigantic gulp
and choking on the remains

it rasps, announcing its progress
(heads bob in motion to the beat of its dying breaths)
inside, drops of blood yawn and stretch
and bend down to scratch a navy-blue itch

their eyes are bleary, unfocused
discarded briefcases and slouching bodies
clog the arteries
(the train continues its groaning)

the walls heave; the metal pleads, feeling its pulse
grow unsteady, throb in spurts
of grogginess and frenzy

the droplets slump, grimace, surrender
as the rails squeal beneath them,
burying their responsibilities in a cup of coffee
and the morning’s paper
drowning out the anguished screeches
with a few clichéd remarks about the alterations
of the thermometer

eyes glance at wrists, watching tiny hands tick away
moments
never realizing what the subway knows-
that its fate is tied to theirs

with final burst of vitality, wheels soar across steel
“my life or theirs” it wheezes, releasing its pain
in the blast of a horn
searing pain shoots through its muscles, as inside
the blood stirs impatiently
awaiting its death with tapping foots
and drumming fingers

an echoing scream, bouncing off walls and into ears
and wiry eyes disconnect, rolling back in metal face

a gathering of briefcases and scattered jackets,
a death wound left gaping
as arteries unclot
as blood regains its momentum
only to cascade, jostling and disjointed
(without a glance back at the majestic beast,
now lifeless and cold)
onto the concrete planks