soft had been the first foot to cross the threshold that year
so in her honour he dabbed whiff behind his stale ears
and tho’ he weren’t dish enough to possess an std
he still sought to ward off the past with its very near teeth
and risk love on the rebound
swilling eschatology in the bottom of root beer floats
he said, “i know what i’m not but still would you let me drain your moat?
for i would pass those tensile battlements you have stacked there atop
and take you on the sectional and the morrows yonder that”
a new love begging to be found
it said, “hey! do you live here?
won’t you raise a toast to this tired earth with me?
yeah, let’s do, let’s begin anew, jowl to cheek”
the maiden of maidan’s flight had taken her from war to here
she said, “there must never be other winters on fire, nor my soul in fear
no dissolving in silence for the wronging key in the wronging slot
no waitings upon landings, yeah, let’s pop the champers and pity buss
if we don’t live then we can’t die”
she held up a twig waiver in lieu of divining his soul by rote
fallen leaves bespecked her face with their many hidden unsung notes
there was no pretext other than her, “looky here, the branch with no words”
he begged, “don’t be a dream”, she said, “you left behind your birch switch”
finally! a pretext to which to hie
love said, “hey! could we live here?
won’t you raise a toast to this tired earth with me?
yeah, let’s do, let’s begin anew, jowl to cheek”
in moscow there is a street of the same name and apartment tier
as the one in leningrad where a clock strikes twelve for any who will hear
is it time for a new year? let’s unlearn the restrainment of our true feelings!
embrace the irony of a fate that flies in the face of impermanence
so they bathed together unashamed
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016
