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MRT Cadence
four fingers
sing
against the glass
as imaginary
speed moves
alongside
the subterranean darkness
a hollow rhythm,
like a weathered flute
whooshing across the
vacant underground
with its greys and
fluorescents
crackling along
concrete tracks
and eyelids
flutter in lieu
of sleep, closing
in tempo with
the crotchet rests of
heads bobbing along
on spines, bent over
like clefs
until the electronic
bell teases us
awake,
and the opera of
disembodied
voices
heeds us home.
Greg Ng (3H3)
Hwa Chong Institution (High School)
5:24 AM | link
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