I watched a woman on the uptown D think about leaving her daughters and running for whatever she’d find at the top of the stairs on 59th street
Chest tight and breaths and arms too short –
fist clenching the straps of the little empty bag in her lap
He told her where to sit
Next to the littlest one who already hates him and always will
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She sees me looking at her in a metal reflection in case his eyes open from this nap he’s found on the moving train
Pacified like babies riding in cars at the end of days
She wants to run so bad
Between stops she kisses her babies
She clears her throat to see how woke he is
She sneezes and if there’s no blessing the world is hers
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She’s given up tonight like she’s given up over and over and over
She stares now only at him to rationalize
Too shamed to meet me again in the metal or the glass or directly
Head down
Then at her babies
Easily managed or handled girls and woman
Wondering when this sleeping man became so confident in his power
