‘The St Pancras Pianos’ : A Poem

‘The St Pancras Pianos’ : A Poem

A poem that emerged from a memory cloud as I dashed through St Pancras Station – the first draft was typed into my phone on the Underground and read an hour later at my National Poetry Day gig. As I was Tweeting about the pianos a fortnight ago, it seems fitting to publish it online. (And if anyone can explain how to get rid of the double-spacing in WordPress, please feel free to comment!) 

 

The St Pancras Pianos

for Paul

 

Who knew there were two

blue uprights at the station?

While you caressed the ivories

beneath the Eurostar escalier,

I was opposite Cath Kidston

listening to a bald bruiser

with tats and a gay dungeon beard:

boogie-woogie jazz sonatas,

impromptu ragtime rhapsodies,

pouring from his fingers

on and on for half hour.

 

I didn’t SMS

because you’d be on the Tube,

I didn’t want to nag,

and my BlackBerry battery was low.

So when at last we had

ten minutes left to check in,

and you called

and my phone went dead

I had to run into Fossil

– who had just repaired my watch strap –

and beg to plug it in.

 

We’d both been early.

We made our train

with time to buy a bottle of wine.

No-one could get angry.

And though I was disappointed

not to have been serenaded,

today when I passed through the station,

I felt as blessed as Nina Simone

knowing we’re travelling together

and one day soon

we’ll play it again.

 

Naomi Foyle

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