to meet       Janet Buck

On the stark platform
she presses my face
against that 
of the passing train's.

Terrified, I should be
flattered she assumes 
our common bond, 
this shared-courage bracelet 
our Mizpah coin that could cut 
like a crown of thorns.

I have traveled the rails
but not the gravel between them
dragged underneath
to be reaped by steel flanges,
blind turn following turn…


© Jon Bohrn (2003)