One of poetry’s great strengths is its ability to capture a moment of recognition.
Or, in some cases, a moment of misrecognition.
Toni Artuso’s “To the Woman Waiting on the Train Station Platform” begins with observation. The speaker notices a woman dressed in striking over-the-knee boots, a miniskirt, and a dark jacket. The details are vivid. The woman commands attention. She appears confident, glamorous, and perhaps a little intimidating.
Like the speaker, readers begin constructing a story.
Who is she?
Where is she going?
What kind of person dresses like this on a cold day?
The poem invites us to ask these questions while quietly reminding us that we don’t actually know the answers.
What follows is a wonderful example of how poetry can examine the assumptions we make about strangers. We see someone for a few moments and immediately begin filling in the blanks. Clothing becomes personality. Posture becomes character. Appearance becomes identity.
Then comes the turn.
The woman looks back.
Suddenly, the speaker notices traces of adolescent acne beneath carefully applied makeup. It is a small detail, but it changes everything. The glamorous stranger becomes a human being with a history. The mystery remains, but the distance narrows.
What I admire about the poem is its restraint. It never tells us what to think about the woman. It simply shows us how quickly we create stories about people we do not know and how easily those stories can be disrupted by a single unexpected detail.
In only a few lines, Artuso moves from attraction and curiosity to something deeper: empathy.
The poem also feels particularly well suited to its author. Toni Artuso is an emerging, and as she humorously describes herself, “aging” trans writer from Salem, Massachusetts. Her work has appeared in numerous publications, including The Christian Science Monitor, The Ekphrastic Review, Salamander, and Honeyguide Literary Magazine, which nominated one of her villanelles for both a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.
Reading this poem, I found myself thinking about how often we mistake appearance for understanding. We notice what is visible and assume we know the rest. Yet every person carries experiences, struggles, triumphs, and insecurities that remain hidden from view.
The woman on the platform remains largely unknown to us. That is precisely why the poem succeeds. Artuso allows her to remain a stranger while reminding us that strangers are always more complicated than the stories we tell ourselves about them.
Long after I finished reading the poem, I found myself returning to that final image. Not because it answers the mystery of who the woman is, but because it reminds us how much of every human being remains unseen.
Have you ever imagined the life of a stranger?
There are so many more wonderful works to read, listen to, and see. Visit Instant Noodles!
OLD SCRATCH PRESS 