poemimage

Cubist spires

Assembled in the clouds

The new Soviet man

Aligning his spine

Tumbling quickly

Into descent

A boneyard deliriousness

Bring me a glass of water

I fought during the siege

It’s true!

I was young

Stumbling

Into the rubble

Running for ammunition

My bones ached

We had no bread

Your heels resound

One foot is heavy

Are you with child

Your son glancing

Over his shoulder

Acutely

Internalizing

Shostakovich

I myself

Investigated

During the allegretto

Do you have a glass of water

Reciting

Accusations

Admitting

Actions

Quarrying impossibly

Stony stone

I was broken

It was late when I stepped off the train

Children bouncing candy-coloured balloons

Fathers and mothers soft as dough

The new Soviet man

a file

Inside crusted bread

Cubism condensed

To a slate grey

Now you pass this way again

What is that look you are wearing?