Commute

Oh, to be back on the bus
in the winter. Packed close
like a carry-on to Europe.
Our shoulders kiss
behind coats. Yield
to borrow space and
heat. Pray that every seat
is filled. It feels so wonderful to sit.

Always, I’ve been aware
of people’s gaze.
It makes crowds, for me,
uncomfortable. But the parish
on the winter bus holds me
differently. I can stare out the window
and fall asleep in the pew.

Emily is a writer in Pittsburgh, PA. Her short stories and poetry have appeared in publications, including Contrary Magazine, Anti-Heroin Chic, Ping-Pong Literary Journal, Flash: The International Short Story Magazine, and Pif Magazine.