New Cross
A poem
Published in
Nov 5, 2021
On the way out to New Cross,
An ant crawled into the hairs of my jumper.
I don’t know what it was doing on the DLR.
I don’t know if it came onto the crowded carriage with me-
Or if it got on all on its own.
I don’t know how far away it was from its colony,
Or why it wandered off, alone.
It kept trying to use my arm as a shortcut-
A chute to the carriage floor.
I cupped my hands over it,
And steadied it over my lap-
But it scurried its way through each second saving it.
I wish it could have seen the buildings turn into trees,
And the scuffling feet shift into tall stalks of grass.
