SurVision Magazine

The Commuter's Journey Home


In the tunnel her head was two-headed,
the glass laughed at her startled neigh,
her engine eyes rotated each time,
the train grunted as it entered the dark mouth,
her nose wrinkled on the track,
and she refused to answer her ears as they screamed
you are not seeing things
get out, faster, faster, this is a jungle.
The travellers on the station platforms
turned anti-clockwise,
stepping on the cinema hoardings
and danced a tap-dance.
They chi-chi-chi-cha-chaa'ed all the way, ignoring barriers
and winning a bandage to slip on the eel of their ticket.
They entered through the ceiling,
swinging on the straps
with their monkey tails
and gripping in formation.
The hyena spots Waterloo,
goes into battle,
pulls the hair of the passengers
to stop the train.




The Commuter Takes Tea on the Platform


She crawls, dragging a spoon, her belly heavy with television
documentaries and frosted news channels.
She wonders if she should have eaten that iced swan,
it was a tough day not knowing which way to turn.
A complete white-out against the sky.

Everyone knew the sky rained supreme.
The wet drops clouded her spanner eyes,
hammers fell on her, and she opened her
toolbox, baked a loaf in her oven
and made a sandwich of nails and screws.

This was handy because the ticket collector
insisted on lunch and she thought
I don't mind if I do, and put the kettle on her head.
He made a lovely kipper tea bag.




Sheila Aldous lives on the Teign Estuary in Devon. She has been published in Acumen, Domestic Cherry, Obsessed with Pipework and Orbis. Her first collection, Paper Boats, was brought out by Indigo Dreams in December 2018. She participated in the Enfield Poemathon.