Tuesday Poem

As Her Husband Sleeps, Sonya Tells a Story

…right in front of the approaching train

a woman and a man fuck in the snow.
Consider, my soul, this texture of stubbornness and quiet:
as she falls and rises
above him in the air,
he wants her and he does not want her—
Consider this approaching train
in which the conductor whistles, rings the bell and shouts
as if refusing to believe in their deafness.
Consider, my soul, the deafness
which seems to have chosen the man
as its earthly vehicle.
The train stops, the conductor whispers
May you win the lottery and spend it all on doctors!
The woman straightens her coat, and laughs—
“One of us had to stop first, sir. I couldn’t.”

by Ilya Kaminsky
from Connotation Press
Issue IV, Volume VI: March 2015