A Toilet on a European Intercity Express

by James Sutherland-Smith

Grey is the colour of the decor
with signs in blue
instructing what to do,
where to hold your hands for soap,
where to rinse under a dribble of water.
There’s a notice telling you
not to drop hand towels down the loo,
a card behind clear plastic pinned on the door
signed by whoever squirted disinfectant,
polished the taps and mopped the floor,
not to forget your face mask, don’t forget
before you leave this sanitary space.

You complete your task, stand and peer,
then press with your thumb
down upon a green, wine–gum
coloured glowing button
for a click, a pause, a loud gasp,
a flicker of track hurtling beneath the train
as light filters through the frosted glass,
the sun rising, not a painful glitter
to add to the iron wheels’ clatter,
but a tranquil shimmer on a smiley face
beside a second notice which lets you know
that bottles, cans, magazines and dirty knickers
arc not to be disposed of here.