CATCHING THE TRAIN
BY MANJERI S. ISVARAN
Like a monstrous cephalopod
with tumultuous piston and rod,
from the platform I saw
into the station’s maw
the Night Mail draw.
From all around me the crush
of passengers made a rush
to the doors of the moving train
prior admittance to gain.
And then on a sudden I heard
a something that twisted and stirred
horror in the deeps of my heart,
terror that had no map nor chart.
It was a human shriek,
inhuman yet that cry
quick to a monse’s squeak
thinned plaintively,
while wheel after wheel,
cold tornados of steel
thundered by,
and I heard a man inchly die,
pitched across the rail,
beneath the Night Mail,
hacked flesh and battered bone,
and none to mourn.