Osip
       

It's hard to comprehend
White horses
Did not arrive
In the end

Across the seas
Across the Urals
To where you are standing
Dead

But these days
I can tell you

On my word
I hear them

Clop      clop      clop

Tramping for you
The distance
Over these
New Soviet cities

Sighing chrome and silver
And coughing up nightsticks

Breathing in black windows
Breathing out white ribbons

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Copyright © 2014 Alan Jude Moore All rights reserved
from Zinger
Salmon Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission