/k guidolin


without the fear of being pushed you stand on the slate painted yellow/screaming around the corner the train turns into a magnet and you a spoon/platform rings with an automated calando/cars flying past/smashing wind against the hairs on your cheeks/missing you by inches/full days go by without human contact/tallied by the single sets of dried lenses on your nightstand/imagine a friend wrapping invisible string around your fingers until they touch/relief from the only voices heard through walls/muted dully like those above an in-ground pool/wading through crowds for comfort/rush hour brings hundreds to huddle together tightly/grabbing hold for balance/undulating as the train weaves/avoiding the walls of the underground/now stopping at spadina/ spadina station/doors are now closing /silence is sealed inside the car like a tupperware lid/close your eyes and trust your muscle memory/training/tracks offering a thunderous ovation/standing facing forwards and back we share the erratic dance dance revolution/turning to strangers to share shoulders
for just a moment to rest


Kendra Guidolin is a professional dancer from Toronto completing her creative writing MA at the University of New Brunswick. Her work has appeared in FreeLit Magazine, The Fiddlehead, and Contemporary Verse 2 (CV2).