Song
for Thomas

The girl in the train looks out with brown eyes

fixed and lost.

What is she looking for?  What is gone?  Why

this black frost

on a spring face?  She really can’t be said

a pretty girl

precisely, rather a cleverly remade

pretty doll.

Bright bleached hair curves in a cunning fall

round masked skin.

Only the fixed brown eyes seem to reveal

someone within.

Self-made? self-murdered? blank as a solitary

prisoner

she is looking blindly through those lost eyes

for her brown hair.