Angoisse des Gares

Angoisse Des Gares

 

The unborn Pierre looked back dismayed

at the fading light from which he pressed.

 

Ahead a stretching tearing fissure:

Eyes. Masks. Lights and latex fingers.

 

Forceps at his temples. 

Gripping. Pulling. Grunting.

Pain and voices,

 

‘C’est un fils.’ 

 

The umbilicus cut –

another rupture from the one

who gave him a name and

breasts to fix his lips upon.

 

First day at board school

clinging to the woman

he learned to love

and call ‘maman.’

 

‘Don’t be foolish – t’inquiète pas. Au revoir.’

 

His face at the window

balling fists to his eyes

to hold back tears

as her taxi vanished

around the corner 

heading to the Gare du Nord.

 

Stealing from his lover’s bed

leaving a fractured billet-doux:

 

‘You are the loveliest woman I ever knew.

I’m just not good enough for you.’

 

Slow train to the Gare du Sud

new life, new sights, new sounds,

and chances of a new amour.

 

Staring goodbye as the platform slid.

 

Head out – peering towards the bridge

the railway passes under.

 

Hoping she would not be standing there

waving forlorn as he left forever.

 

And hoping,

perhaps,

that she might be.

 

© coolhermit 2020
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Nemo

Must point out: it’s “ne t’inquiète pas” or just “t’inquiète pas” will do.

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