Friday, January 11, 2008

Russian heart

Outside Moscow the snow was clean,
a pressed white sheet spread and tucked
into the edges of the day. Your kiss faded
faster than the winter sun. Its pale memory
held no warmth or shadows where a dreamer
might find refuge. Night brushed the treetops
with grey smudges and crept across the sky
as swift and canny as foxes in a thicket.

Solitude was not enough for me, the losses
grown stale and distant. I came to Russia
so that I might shiver at her pallid dusks,
might feel my heart's wounds like broken glass
pressed hard against my bare palms.

At Suzdal I dipped my hands into the snowbank
past my wrists until the cold bit so deep
I could remember everything the world
had taken like a petty thief. There I drank
the twilght's rimed wind, an aperitif as sweet
as summer's lush and long forgotten bower.

~this poem was inspired by this lovely photo taken by Andrey and posted on Flickr. As he says in his post... "There we founded this heart."


martovskiy said...

My ex' girlfriend also saw this heart. It was before we meet each other.

Sea Dream Studio said...

Thank you Andrey~ I appreciate your generosty in allowing me use your most beautiful photograph.