sometimes you look and He's not there.
two buddies dive into a glass
splashing there until they pass out
while she presses her fingers to her temples.
and some sort of music upstairs
a moment ago they hung laundry on the clothesline,
pumped oil, cursed the Joint Chiefs of Staff --
and now you stand in the middle of it all,
fake-fur-covered stepchild wrapped in a parka
behind your back things so alien, or so familiar,
your eyes are afraid, your shoulders hurt.
upstairs neighbors sing at the table,
the new china marches together with us.
feeling bored, one of them comes to the window,
peers into suburban Moscow darkness.
sometimes, you know, you look — and its like you've gone blind,
can't see squat — but something chews loudly in the dark
on its own puppies, washes them down with water,
then with oil, then curses the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
seems He's not here anymore, but your hands are afraid,
and your eyes hurt.
two buddies dive into a glass
splashing there until they pass out
while she presses her fingers to her temples.
and some sort of music upstairs
a moment ago they hung laundry on the clothesline,
pumped oil, cursed the Joint Chiefs of Staff --
and now you stand in the middle of it all,
fake-fur-covered stepchild wrapped in a parka
behind your back things so alien, or so familiar,
your eyes are afraid, your shoulders hurt.
upstairs neighbors sing at the table,
the new china marches together with us.
feeling bored, one of them comes to the window,
peers into suburban Moscow darkness.
sometimes, you know, you look — and its like you've gone blind,
can't see squat — but something chews loudly in the dark
on its own puppies, washes them down with water,
then with oil, then curses the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
seems He's not here anymore, but your hands are afraid,
and your eyes hurt.