Underground

Squeezed inside silver doors, I twist
this way and that to find something
to hold to; avert my face from others
close as breath misting a mirror; slant
towards the direction in which I'm hurtled.
I forget I am breathing the same air,
blinking against the same glib neon,
and drift in a fantasy of arrival,
freed from this long tunnelling moment.
Now all the numbed parts of myself
burn through me — unclaimed memories,
buried fears/desires. When, at the end,
I speed through other tunnels, jostling
other selves, I am learning again
to breathe in space, in movement,
till street air hits my face at last,
sparkling daylight rushes to the brain.