The Last Train by Grace Andreacchi

desert train
dressed in old gold it lingers
at the very last station on earth
under a desert sky the air is cold
the stars pinpricks under your skin
on board forgotten faces glow
pale but bravely smiling
you hope they won’t recognise you
and they don’t
so you sink with a sigh into your
green velvet seat
sip a glass of champagne
as the train pulls out
wailing its desert song into the night
you were not expecting this
and yet you are here
this first class seat has your name on it
Grace Andreacchi writes novels, plays, short stories and poetry. Her work has been published by Serpent’s Tail, Harpur Collins and Oxford University Press as well as her own imprint, Andromache Books.

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