mom is telling me in the subway
she saw a child a boy of about eight
he (she says) was staring ahead
hopelessly like a very tired
little adult in a train car, across from her
getting off at Kropotkinskaya she took from her bag
an orange his hands in front of him
fingers interlaced palms facing up
saying oh thanks and smiling so
an orange soft golden thing
the doors are closing the train
gradually gaining speed the child
the boy looking ahead an orange
glowing from the sky over it all
the snow is falling i go out into the street
mom says late for work
the fur coat's heavy slippery difficult
seven months left if i could only change jobs
because i've no strength left in me handwritten cards
mom orange subway
i would not have been able to do anything for him
in my bag there are cigarettes CDs
a book of poems by Aizenberg an organizer weed
the doors are closing wet oat flakes
falling from the sky this is February and he keeps
smiling at you squeezing an orange in his hands
approaching Sportivnaya
Translated by Nika Skandiaka
she saw a child a boy of about eight
he (she says) was staring ahead
hopelessly like a very tired
little adult in a train car, across from her
getting off at Kropotkinskaya she took from her bag
an orange his hands in front of him
fingers interlaced palms facing up
saying oh thanks and smiling so
an orange soft golden thing
the doors are closing the train
gradually gaining speed the child
the boy looking ahead an orange
glowing from the sky over it all
the snow is falling i go out into the street
mom says late for work
the fur coat's heavy slippery difficult
seven months left if i could only change jobs
because i've no strength left in me handwritten cards
mom orange subway
i would not have been able to do anything for him
in my bag there are cigarettes CDs
a book of poems by Aizenberg an organizer weed
the doors are closing wet oat flakes
falling from the sky this is February and he keeps
smiling at you squeezing an orange in his hands
approaching Sportivnaya
Translated by Nika Skandiaka