Poem of the Week |9| Lost in the Crowd

Lost in the Crowd

On weekday mornings
she joins the cortège
of cadavre-filled cars,
a procession made up of bodies
still not awake but silently
dreading another work day.
Car light-eyes illuminate the dark
as they slowly stop-start,
winding their way to the
mass grave office where
nobody feels alive.

On Saturdays she takes
the train to town, passes
the hours window-shopping,
being jostled by crowds.
Sipping coffee she watches
the multicoloured plaid
of aimless browsers weaving
through focused shopaholics.

On Sundays, seated on a hard
pew, her eyes digest couples
shepherding children into Saint Brigid’s
then home for Sunday dinner.
From her flat she sees
driveways belch out cars,
congest the streets, as families gather
for Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding,
more appetising than her microwaved
meal for one.