Connolly Station, Dublin
Connolly station is deserted.
Apart from a caustic security guard,
a moustached woman closing up the newsagents
and a couple,
both clad in black,
saying a long and bleak goodbye.
This is a train station. From here, you can go
to Ireland’s green edges,
but no further, and that in itself
is not far.
But who knows where she thinks
that train is taking her,
her guttural sobs echo around the station.