On The Subway Train This Morning

by Felix Jung

A man in front of me, his hand against
the glass partition, starts to fall asleep
while standing. Staring at his wedding ring

depresses me, and makes me wish I was
in love again. His head is bowed, as though
the day has broken him already. Half

in prayer, his palm against the glass, he tries
to stop the train’s momentum, stop the world:
“Not yet. Not yet. I’m begging you. Not yet.”