The subway seemed so suddenly silent
Precipitously quiet
From a leaky faucet or a hydrant
through a crack
In the once impervious material amplified by the tunnel
Drip, drip, drip
And the muffled world of those rolling above where the moon lit alone

At what time the light had shown bright could not be known
Amongst the gray black tubes infrequently scattered with dull yellowed glow
That cast poured floor, wall and ceiling in one mottled dimly moving cloud
That era when men wore great coats and fedoras and the tiles had meanings unhidden
And boot heels went
Click, click, click
In throngs and cues immeasurable, not like now… the sound so fearful so alone

The chipped brown enameled bench well engraved names and dirty words
Offers no comfort hard and bare and stare straight ahead so's not to see
Isolated from the pillars and columns that kept it all from crashing down
With their indefinable slithering shadows looming large
Sickly sweetly sounding
scratch, scratch, scratch
Not leaving this world in peace but toward, forward, forlorn

The heart cries for sunlight and the protection of friends
To be one of many not left alone
To surely have blood lost and bones crushed
And forever unknown dead without works completed
So far beneath the street
And that crushing sound
No epitaph but “died too young on her own, at the hands of hate”

The rushing wind from oncoming trains lifts the spirit to a future
A place to go far from here
Not one more step of the second hand
Leaping to auto doors and a conductors nearness
A glance back to the platform of close demise
A rat plays between the tiled uprights
Visible in the #6’s glaring lights