In the Station of a Metro (poem)

The apparition of these faces in the crowd,
petals on a wet, black bough.

Hate, fear, sadness, happiness, these blank faces
know no expression.
The air was quiet,
all afraid to sound,
undisturbed, unbroken by the slow train.

I fell silent walking through it,
as though a cheetah,
to its small, lifeless prey.