Copyright 2005, S. Donovan. All rights reserved.

5:15:

Kendall Station, Cambridge, pre-morning.
Blind man across the tracks sways;
he mirrors the subtle swing of
chimes suspended between the tracks.

The chimes tease a latecomer;
their tango implies
that he's just missed his train.
The attendant breezes him lazily
past the entrance cage, intones like some
fat, black-eyed harbinger of a day
already given to misfortune:
"Next train in fifteen."

5:18:

Hammers hang between the chimes; they're
attached like shinbone to legbone to hipbone
to a lever on the wall beside him.
He pumps the lever furiously, with all his rage
that tomorrow keeps coming
no matter how little sleep he gets.

The hammers don't move an inch.
Something here is broken.

5:20:

He perches on an empty bench,
thinks of the day ahead that he's co-authored--
ill-prepared again, despite himself.

5:24:

A sign he hadn't noticed
underneath the lever reads:

To Lead Hammer to Sound Bell,
Pull Slowly.
- The Pythagoras Band

At last! he's learned to make music.
The bells no longer mock, they make
a temple of the gloom-- life is moments
in a wave.

5:29:

A descant of water ambling along the tracks
keeps time with the bass-line crescendo
in his side of the tunnel; spring
is imminent as the approaching train.

There may be enough time
in a day.