I keep adding bits to this.
Serious comments welcome.

NIGHT CROSSING

Below us the channel shifts
In massive unseen currents

And everywhere the engine’s throbbing
Thuds over the sea’s cold roar,

So heart cannot be heard,
And the skin lies chill.

Up here, petrol-sick, I blink, vexed
In the feeble and unwelcome lights:

(Is she sleeping now? And
How did we get this far so soon?)

Boat motion shrugs
Away the problem:

It’ll be dawn soon, over
The seagull grey of endless cliffs;

And then the crowded funnel
Of checks of luggage and tags;

From there the pitching roar of the train
Bearing me ever north;

And at last the scrape of the key in the latch,
The towelly smells,
The numbly adhesive horrors of home.