That Two Carriage Train To Saltburn

Clitters to a stop at platform one,
as if in muted protest.
From the window,
wide as a trophy aquarium
she sees him
hair like a corn halo.
People tumble out to move off
alone or into arms
waiting to handle baggage.
She is a middle aged woman
wearing sensible heels,
with a suitcase packed
for a brief interlude,
one of many not immune
to a pleasant polished smile

In his pocket is a coil
of fishing line
and a jar of tartare sauce.
And he wears his leather flying jacket
like an armoured breast plate
against the oncoming tide

©Talia Hardy2015


2 thoughts on “That Two Carriage Train To Saltburn

    • Yes, that’s the hook isn’t it? I thought about mint sauce, as in lamb to the slaughter. But that was too obvious and probably clichéd. I needed something which made the reader think a little.

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