D Major Poem by Sam Hickford
D Major
I love these little foretastes of our apocalypse
like a snow-laced afternoon in January
watching trains agreeably fall cancelled:
tracing your distant name upon my lips,
as if a station I will only reach
in impulses, blithe carriages to Bolton/Salford,
the uncertainty opening a network up
I knew only in arrogant destinations.
Tuesday, March 25, 2025
Topic(s) of this poem: january,lips,snow,uncertainty
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8/28/2026 12:30:54 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
