Underground by Ben Banyard

As we clatter below Marylebone
I risk a glance at their faces
see history, movement, love.

The couple opposite coo Portuguese
and their infant daughter punches
the breeze with pudgy fists.

A white-haired lady furrows her
brow at her daughter, querying
the Bakerloo stops in Afrikaans.

Two men hanging from rails
banter back and forth overhead
Jamaican patois haranguing Cockney.

A Japanese woman wrestles
her suitcase off at Paddington
just as the doors crash shut.

Encased in this deep tunnel
we’re close enough to smell
one another’s studied distance.

Ben Banyard lives in Portishead, where he writes poetry and short fiction. His work has appeared in Popshot, Lunar Poetry, Ink Sweat & Tears, Eunoia Review, The Stare's Nest and others. Ben edits Clear Poetry (https://clearpoetry.wordpress.com) a blog publishing accessible writing by newcomers and old hands alike.

Ben Banyard lives in Portishead, where he writes poetry and short fiction. His work has appeared in Popshot, Lunar Poetry, Ink Sweat & Tears, Eunoia Review, The Stare’s Nest and others. Ben edits Clear Poetry (https://clearpoetry.wordpress.com) a blog publishing accessible writing by newcomers and old hands alike.

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