Thursday, July 17, 2014

The Russian Army Gathers at the Ukrainian Border



armies in the night, steel
wheels scrape
the sacred earth.

Gogol once rode here, troika
flying over drifts, wind
blistering his open lips
as laughing he drew in
the Russian cold.

So many dead souls,
to be bought and sold . . .

fodder
for Russian tanks.


1 comment:

  1. Yes, the lower depths as war imposes on lives ...

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