The Night Train
Conductor, send my love on the Night Train.
The fast train.
The sleek black bullet flying straight as a shot train.
I want it sent first-class, post-haste
delays notwithstanding
no missed connections, signal failures
no leaves on the line, and not a flake of the wrong kind of snow
because I’m sending my love on the Night Train.
I considered freight, but it seemed too impersonal
asked a courier, but he didn’t handle it properly
tried mail, but the postman didn’t understand
tried smoke signals, carrier pigeon, message in a bottle
even the internet
but in the end I decided on the Night Train
because the rocking of the carriage is gentle
and railway tracks are so much longer than arms.
You see, I can’t always reach the people that matter
and if I did I wouldn’t know what to say
so I’m sending my love on the Night Train
stopping at London, Peterborough, York, Newcastle, Edinburgh
Belfast, Stockholm, Bergen, Vilnius-
-I’m sorry conductor, you’re just going to have to find a way.
And I hope you speak English, Welsh, Swedish, Norwegian, Lithuanian, two kinds of Elvish and the Black Speech of Mordor
because I don’t.
That would be ridiculous.
I will admit
there is a lot that could go wrong.
I’m sending my love
but it has such a long way to go.
It gets exhausted sometimes
it inexcusably can’t be bothered sometimes
in fact, it may lose its railcard
forget its luggage
misplace its tickets
-yes I know it would have been cheaper
had I booked sooner-
it might fall asleep
miss its stop
might even get on the wrong train entirely,
so be careful with it.
Stoke the boilers
fire the engines
blow the whistle
and send my love
on the Night Train.
Lewis Brown is a young writer and performance poet, based in the North East of England and Edinburgh. Find out more at fallingpiano.wordpress.com