Platform

A brother and sister message over
infrastructure they didn’t build
but somehow find a way
to get across the things they never
throught of saying.
They were separated before they fully
knew each other and so the only time
they had was when the world was bent
on ripping them away.
She reminds him of the wallpaper
from the apartment they once stayed in
and how their dad would sleep
on his back when he was drinking.
They both recalled the kitchen sink
where he would have his baths
as just a baby and he could maybe
just remember what it felt like to be
underneath the water.
What kind of daughter would have given
up so easily? She asks him while she’s crying
on a bench down in some
sunken sullen subway.
He asked her what platform and marked
it on his hand so he could know for sure
where he would have to go.
Only when he got there she was gone,
and so were all those empty songs
they’d always sing to make it through
the ugly daylight through the window screen
above them.