Blue-eyed Sam and the Poorva Express
His eyes are Indian Railway blue. I can look straight through his head to the curtains on the other
side of the compartment. The same color blue. I am unnerved. He is asleep with my poems in the
top berth. I don’t know him yet.
Halting stops in the night. We wait for the Rajdhani to go past in a blast like the end of the world.
Bleary Ganga at daybreak. Four more hours to Gaya. The train is still dark. Blue curtains brush.
Boots thump the aisle.
In the morning I climb up to be with him. We rock on the rails together and apart. Our shoulders
slam. Nobody sees. Hard pressed against the ceiling, we crouch in a nest of grease sheets and time
Pulling slow into the station, my eyes are water lily glazed. I resolve not to love him more than I can
Jamie Samdahl is a poet from Princeton, Massachusetts. She has been published or has forthcoming poems in Washington Square Review, Poetica Magazine, Labrys, and Quick Brown Fox. In the spring of 2013, she was named winner of the 90th Annual Glascock Intercollegiate Poetry Prize.