Prague Metro
 

The single glove
resting above
the button-click-press
peel-paint-scraped
ticket machine,
 
where the coins
are rust-rubbed, roughly,
beside the slot
to make them easier to digest
before the ticker-tick paper regurgitation.
 
Heel-click-turns behind me, crowd proceed
to the snake-mouth-slit-click ticket stamp,
to be side-stepped, swiftly to the stairs,
with the force-flow of frost tunnelled air
push-pressed ahead.
 
The suck-seal break of rubber
slides back,
before the off-tune duo
resonate-departure-notes
tirelessly trill.


*
Helen Pletts is a regular IS&T contributor. She was born in the UK
but now lives in Prague in the Czech Republic, where she teaches
creative writing. Her latest collection can be bought via the IS&T chapbook shop. You are welcome to visit www.stem-of-quietly-disarrayed-fertility.com