Poetry

[eye_of_a_cat]

My dad sent me some poetry anthologies for my birthday (which was weeks ago but hey). This is one of my absolute favourites, and the best possible poetic take on the London underground.

'To Virgil', Helen Dunmore

Lead me with your cold, sure hand,
make me press the correct buttons
on the automatic ticket machine,
make me not present my ticket upside down
to the slit mouth at the barriers,

then make the lift not jam
in the hot dark of the deepest lines.
May I hear the voice on the loudspeaker
and understand each syllable
of the doggerel of stations.

If it is rush-hour, let me be close to the doors,
I do not ask for space,
let no one crush me into a corner
or accidentally squeeze hard on my breasts
or hit me with bags or chew gum in my face.

If there are incidents, let them be over,
let there be no red-and-white tape
marking the place, make it not happen
when the tunnel has wrapped its arms around my train
and the lights have failed.

Float me up the narrow escalator
not looking backward, losing my balance
or letting go of your cold, sure hand.
Let there not be a fire
in the gaps, hold me secure.
Let me come home to the air.

Comments

[vilakins]

The tube as inferno! And I bet it is with the heatwaves this year.

[eye_of_a_cat]

Isn't it great! And yes indeed. I think some of the lines are air conditioned, but I was there during a heatwave a few years ago that wasn't even this bad and it was not pleasant on the underground at all.