Cradled through England between flooded fields
\nrocking, rocking the rails, my headphones on,
\nthe black box of my Walkman on the table.
\nHot tea trembles in its plastic cup.
\nI’m thinking of you waking in our bed
\nthinking of me on the train.<\/p>\n
The radio speaks in the suburbs, in commuter towns,
\nin cars unloading children at school gates,
\nis silenced in dark parkways down the line
\nbefore locks click and footprints track the frost
\nand trains slide out of stations in the dawn
\ndreaming their way towards the blazing bone\u2013ship.<\/p>\n
The Vodaphone you are calling
\nmay have been switched off.
\nPlease call later. And calling later,
\ncalling later their phones ring in the rubble
\nand in the rubble of suburban kitchens
\nthe wolves howl into silent telephones.<\/p>\n
I phone. No answer. Where are you now?
\nThe train moves homewards through the morning.
\nTonight I’ll be home safe, but talk to me, please.
\nPick up the phone. Today I’m tolerant
\nof mobiles. Let them say it. I’ll say it too.
\nDarling, I’m on the train.<\/p>\n
Notes…<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Cradled through England between flooded fields rocking, rocking the rails, my headphones on, the black box of my Walkman on the table. Hot tea trembles in its plastic cup. I’m thinking of you waking in our bed thinking of me on the train. The radio speaks in the suburbs, in commuter towns, in cars unloading… Continue reading On The Train<\/span>