A Lover, A Train To The Airport
written by: Valentine Cusin
Speakers spitting grain, incident in route
person injured on rails. In the jostling
grey and patterned seats someone hushes
I hope it at least was voluntary,
above the screeching rails it is Tuesday,
sweaty elbows grind morning-breath mildew
on the plastic windows, thick melted brie
stretched over my knuckles like a cobweb.
The seven o-clock alarm sings, you, love,
caress my hair like you’d dust a relic
at near fifteen-past your fingertips reach
my eyelid’s quiet corner, and by eight
you coil back chaste and fair into stained sheets
white back shimmering like the water’s edges.
Valentine is half-French half-Italian, half poet half overly-caffeinated third year undergraduate. She is currently based in the UK and her works can be found in the anthology 'Underworld,' as well as Evanescent Magazine and Hikari Zine.
Latest posts by Valentine Cusin (see all)
- A Lover, A Train To The Airport - May 27, 2026
- To Close the Mouth of a Wound - February 9, 2026
