Reading Primo Levi on the Train
We breach the ordered peace
of our atrocity-free mornings
leaving the solitary confinement of sleep
for transportation by commuter train
to where labour pays debts owed
to building society and bank.
We bear food parcels
-salad rolls and fruit-
our working lunches.
A woman cradles a package
-slop bucket or lamp shade?
Hair clings to our heads still.
Chains hang from slender necks.
So many of us to kick, to kill,
so much flesh to torture and despise
beneath the modish cuts
of suit and skirt, so many stories
to force abruptly to their end,
so many people expected home at dusk
to whisk away in cattle trucks... .
The train clatters on.
Whatever this day holds
we will live to see it through,
to walk down the gravel drive,
its cindered, osteal sounds,
to watch stars like gold-filled teeth
chatter with us in the cold.
Structure
27 lines · 3 stanzas