Reading a poetry play which.. err..as the name suggests, is a play in a sequence of poems. All poems are in a series of monologues, recited by a woman in a moving train. This is one of my favourites in the book.
Imagine a cut,
straight and clear,
like two panes of glass nestled together,
Each with its longings and allegiances.
Now imagine a heart, split,
A jagged cut runs through the core.
No steady heart could join it.
Never again whole.
‘Dreams of May’