Subway Portraits
Darryl Willis

     A cool wind blows under Kyiv

    upward, outward, side-to-side.

    Incessant breezes caress my face

    as I in the darkness sit

    staring at faces reflected: shy,

    quiet eyes painted on

    windows of ebon night

    in the daytime. But there are times

    I catch a pair and the gaze

    in haste averts, but ever so

    often one holds my eyes

    and I catch a glint of surprise;

    even perhaps a wistful smile:

    possibilities unrealized.

    Outside the station, a girl in black

    smokes her last cigarette;

    a blank stare given to passers-by,

    veiled words behind her vacant eyes.