PoetryAloud

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Amy Billone Reads

Paris to London

Before the train
plunges into the sea,
I watch grazing deer
and horses sprinting,
green grape vines
and high corn leaves,
skinny full grown
leaning trees beside
baby saplings cradled
in nets, fields of
wheat, scattered rolls
of hay, an ancient
cathedral tower.
French students
smile, shout. 
They must have lived
for thirteen years--
In their voices,
such wild joy.
I am sad to hear it.
They laugh together,
beautiful, young.
(We pass another
cathedral tower).
The children practice
English: I love you, but...
one day...a boy says
and a girl mimics him,
giggling. Others
repeat: I love you, but...
one day...They laugh
until their bodies shake.
I see no people outside 
for hours. Only a solitary
man, bald-headed
like my father, leans
shirtless over blades
of grass. He must be
far away from home.
Then dancing sheep
and goats and purple
flowers. More youthful
laughter: I love you, but...
one day...My strange
familiar grief,
and still another old
cathedral tower. 

Amy Billone

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