Deep deep under London: Here

is where I was first conceived

while my brother slept in the open valise,

my parents huddling to the air raid sound-

space number ODAQ 26 3

from 11 p.m. to six in the morning-

willing life

when above and behind them was

that mechanical old buzzing

warning

somewhere

someone would die

I visit this station every time I am in town

as if it is an old aunt who must be paid obeisance

even if she doesn’t remember our connection

and likes strangers just as much as relations

I see the resemblance too, the way we are both

way stations, bearing signs

of our traumatic past,

but except for measured stops, concerned only

with the hubbub of the moment.