ABANDONMENT

ABANDONMENT

Richard Antonio Garcia

Trains at this depot

rarely come and pick up passengers

who have misaligned their masks

and want out of this place.

Disgruntled lovers

famished hearts who have given up

but refuse to kill themselves

wait here for an untimely death.

Children hanging onto the sleeve

of an unloving parent

was the kid in blue jeans from N.Y.

Trains at this depot

are reluctant to stop for these beggars

whose cowardly measures

have wrapped them

as a far off package to go onward.

I see not Gladiolas through these glasses

for I am shaded by God

hinting that my purpose is unfulfilled.

Old men still have child eyes

stuck in time with the tears they cried.

Oh Mother …

Trains at this depot

cannot mire from their muddy bottoms

or the frankincense of youth.

We stay children in these vacuums

lost from the hand

that secured our shadows intact.

How the misfortune of our destinies

intertwine the pain of exclusion

and how we

march through time unconditionally

without the heart that made us.

The pain upon these rails is tracked

by an isolating abandonment.