I came a long way to find you
Across the snow-ridged top with its black gash of road
Its single tree its burden of sky
And the figures buried deep in the ice.
Now I’m waiting at the station but where are you?
Your train has left early
Or perhaps it’s never going to arrive
Travelling somewhere in a no-man’s-land
Where the shutters of mist have come down across the windows
And nothing exists but your breath on the glass
Your face peering through with all its bones showing.
You have forgotten who I am
I am forgetting who you are
As the rails draw like wires from the back of my skull
And run out through my eyes, emptying them
Into your incalculable distance
The unguessed-at-never-dreamed-of-destination –
A village of broken dolls’ houses
Where the snow falls like ash
And all voices are frozen like the keys in the lock
Of the door you want to open onto that other landscape
The one where two strangers meet
And exchange names and numbers
And amongst all the rubbish of the fallen towns
A sudden, unexpected flower blooms.
Dark Journey by David Calcutt first appeared in Issue 2 of Bare Fiction Magazine in April 2014.