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,

from how

her guttural sobs echo around the station.

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