there, the old woman talking to
the statue just took a swing at
the young girl with short dark
hair tried to talk to
her, and now she's wearing
blue gloves, staggering between
phrases with clenched cheeks
deep lines, the light
and lips, like she's
waiting? the statue is Zhukov,
I'll agree, terrifyingly calm on
a solid horse, right hand
raised to drown the spiraling streets,
the still of history, parades,
and concrete she waited and
steadied herself measuring
concentration with a thick
plastic bag, and more passed her
these not concerned because she wasn't
talking anymore, and then picked up a bag
in either mitten, walking into the steadiness of tourists,
Russia, while three or four of us watched
2000, Moscow
No comments:
Post a Comment