on the Northern line

to older women in light, coloured jumpers,

to the older woman in the lightly covering jumper on just
your shoulders in July

your body is cooling, dying in London’s July heat as the ancient King David, he at least was given a beautiful virgin to keep him warm, he had an Abishag, a ‘very beautiful girl; she took care of the king and waited on him, but the king had no intimate relations with her.’

did you ever think that you would be so cold in July on the tube, without a lover’s hand, their eye, to caress and warm you?

the two young blondes women to your right and
your left have no jump-
-ers

they sit
-one in a white light sleeveless top, the other in a black tank top, both have their eyes fixed straight ahead
Focused on a

A future stop
it has not arrived, yet
they are waiting on flat black heels not seeing you, your bluish purple hands
your engagement ring on top of your large gold wedding band, your left hand on the side of your face

where is that man, that woman, that person who loved you?

a business trip?
a divorce?
Separation or a
death?

Alone, as your blonde companions,

Your eyes closed, then open, then closed again you see them

try not to go past
your stop

it will come soon