Train Station by Nancy Byrne Iannucci

I want to slam the steel tracks
and bomb the railcar 
that’s scheduled to 
take you away from me.
I become hard like you
but not in a hotel way.
The stabbing below my waist
is the hate I start to have
for the things I love:
 your five o’clock shadow,
 your David body,
 your Joker laugh,
 your addicting affirmations,
your stare 
from green eyes
we both share.
all because I am not there,
on the steel tracks
in the railcar
with you.


Nancy Byrne Iannucci is a poet from Long Island, New York who currently lives in Troy, NY with her two cats: Nash and Emily Dickinson.  San Pedro River Review, 34 Orchard, Defenestration, Hobo Camp Review, Bending Genres, The Mantle, Typehouse Literary Magazine, Glass: a Poetry Journal are some of the places you will find her. She is the author of three chapbooks, Temptation of Wood (Nixes Mate Review, 2018), Goblin Fruit (Impspired, 2021), and Primitive Prayer (Plan B Press, fall 2022). Visit her at www.nancybyrneiannucci.com  Instagram: @nancybyrneiannucci