New Year’s Silent Screaming

Standing on the platform…

From a deep tunnel’s darkness,
dirt and ammonia waft their
ancient odors of industry
along tracks rumbling,
tunnel wind rushing forward,
raising anticipation,
quivering the space in front of him,
breakneck thunder coming to a stop
inches from his face.

Inside…

The submarine-like air

tastes of hunger unabated,
illumined metal radiates fluorescent green,
and embellishes his ride through darkness,
to somewhere… anywhere.

Such is his subway of grace,
enfolding him with intimate anonymity
while his identity remains unknown,

silent under an island of rock

impervious to the pain of silent screaming.