train-song at night has always been
a favorite sound of mine.
not like mourning
but hope, putting distance
between me and home.
growing up, summer window cracked—
that unrelenting howl—I would imagine
running away. I would imagine running
away with my brother
not from him.
growing up is realizing
the selfishness of Heracles to be my own.
the hero who always planned to split,
to relieve Atlas only a moment,
then ditch with his golden apples.
today, the break for it I’m making
into the fissure of night
is guilt-ridden. every time I sit still
I can hear it crawling in the insulation of my mind,
hear it in the sound of pulling the door shut.
putting the sky back on my mother’s shoulders
hurt worse than my own shaking legs.
but the most awful part is that she took it from me smiling.
Darwin Pappas-Fernandes currently works in the Publishing industry in New York City. She graduated from Smith College in 2017, having majored in English and American Studies, with a Concentration in Poetry. Her work has been featured in Gyroscope Review, Vagabond City, and Zingara Poetry Review’s ‘Poetry Picks.’