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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Train Station

 

 

 

At two in the morning, the syncopated rhythm

Of a cleaning woman’s cart,

Rolling over worn terrazzo,

With its tired, misaligned wheels,

Troubles nesting pigeons.

Wings flap in the immense darkness.

 

From a bench somewhere,

The sound of newspapers shifting.

A homeless person asleep,

Dreaming lost dreams.

Sighs.  Falls awake.

Calls out, “Are you ready to be born?”

 

Amid the flapping of wings,

The cleaning woman cries softly.


                            -Robert Garwood