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.
that she might be.
Must point out: it’s “ne t’inquiète pas” or just “t’inquiète pas” will do.
cheers, Nemo, at 4 am. and 55 years since I failed O level french I had it as good as I could recall 🙂 It’s been amended 🙂