Train delay / Blue light

by Alexandra Bergmann

Photo by Alec Favale on Unsplash

Train delay

Tearing up on the north platform,
The hill of white crosses glares at me:
Remember. Ashamed to admit,
I’m about to cry because of the barrage
Of highway noise and the morning heat
And that I missed my line and the house
Finch made its nest in the precarious
Slats above the tracks and he alarms—
Oh God, and how he alarms.
 

Blue light

Save it. I’ve read the articles, too.
I have a neuro notebook around here
and aced that exam on sleep, but I wrote
a full thesis on self-sabotage. Yes, I know
better, wanna be better, but tomorrow’s
already started for my old roommate
in Manhattan. My new one is on the verge
of snoring, propped up on the wall
to avoid pressure on a torn shoulder.
Me? I should put this down, so the screen
will stop tugging at a new morning
before J has got his proper rest in.
I kinda miss all-nighters, though.
All the world was my laptop till
the blue showed me every shade
it could muster before a pink wink
blushed the clouds and I forgot
there’s a time for each wavelength.

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Alexandra Bergmann is a writer and science educator from the San Francisco Bay Area. They can be found running and bird watching.