Variations on Mercy

by Lindsey Weishar

i.

I still have the one-way ticket,
its constellation of moon-shaped punches,
scribbled with the words—take her back
to Brookfield, wrong train.

Nothing remains of the kind conductor
in my memory, only that he saw
reflected in the shimmer of closing doors
a dawning realization he’d seen before.

ii.

As it bound miles beyond Brookfield,
the express sheltered me from brief downpour,
a June afternoon exploded by falling light.

iii.

My last night in Brookfield, I met you
at a corner restaurant shaped
into a triangle, a bullet train.

No sooner had we entered than the rain
became one long, resplendent echo, swell

of song and the trains hurtled past again
and again, their whistle blasts pierced
by the furious silence.

---

Lindsey Weishar holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Missouri-Kansas City. She has contributed to a variety of outlets including Verily Magazine, Dappled Things, and the Word on Fire blog. Her chapbook, Matchbook Night, was published by Leaf Press (Canada) in 2018.