Trembling, I miss another passing train
At the station where napalm mornings bleed
Through windowpanes, misting shadowed
Crosses on my checkered path ahead. Another
Text buzzes my other home’s news:
War.
If you see something, say something.
Someone sneezes somewhere here, blessed
With nods. Stand clear of the closing doors.
In our missiled church a priest intones
Lord have Mercy in our dying tongue
with a choir of explosions. This station is Fulton
Street. I mission for my keys, trembling.
Back in class on the first day,
Students shout, “We missed you, Mister A!”
Samuel Armen
Samuel Armen was adopted from Armenia, raised in New York, earned his BA in English Studies from St. John’s University, and completed his MA in Adolescent Ed. at CUNY Hunter. He currently teaches and manages English programs in Brooklyn and Armenia.