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V. Freeport

February 11, 2008

from “Scenes from a Westbound Train”

I thought he was her father, but
the way she pulled his hand,

heavy, limp and awkward, like a
dead koi from the black pond

of his lap; the way he couldn’t
look at her until he’d unhinged

the clasp of her watch and turned
the ticking face into her wrist;

the way they knit their brows,
concentrating on the other’s knees

in lieu of playing witness to their
teenage neighbors’ frisky schemes,

told me they were something sadder.

by D.S. Apfelbaum

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  1. February 11, 2008 at 7:21 pm

    A very memorable poem and scene, Danielle, and that line about the hand “like a dead koi from the black pond of his lap” is a stunner. Thank you.

  2. February 12, 2008 at 2:45 am

    Absolutely, Beth. It’s nearly too audacious to work, but it’s a triumph. Loved it.

  3. Jo
    February 13, 2008 at 2:30 am

    That koi line is superb, superb. A wonderful, powerful, terrifying piece.

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