Transfer Point

The 4-train shudders against the rail,

a metal shriek that fills the ear.

Her phone slipped out, a plastic flail,

and landed where the floor is sheer.

I picked it up to hand it back—

the screen was webbed with jagged lines.

Across the glass, a sudden crack

where the light of the subway shines.

"He didn’t make it," the preview said.

She took the phone and didn't blink.

I watched the tunnel lights turn red

and felt the whole car start to sink.