We’re in the middle of a sermon series on Generosity and Simplicity, a good time I thought for this poem from Christian Wiman. I love how the momentum of the speech tracks with the imagery, barreling towards it destination.
O the screech and heat and hate
we have for each day’s commute
the long wait at the last stop
before we go screaming
underground, while the pigeons
court and shit and rut
insolently on the tracks
because this train is always late,
always aimed at only us,
who when it comes with its
blue snout, its thousand mouths,
cram and curse and contort
into one creature, all claws and eyes,
tunneling, tunneling, tunneling
toward money.
– Commute (1)
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