Into the night he releases

his wordless poem,

rhythmic and perfectly metered;

then pauses to consider it

before a new trope of sound

rises with the steam from his mouth.


This cold winter, this Moscow night,

loneliness, or some ancient ache

for belonging is our common inspiration.

But I am the lesser poet,

in need of words to beg beneath the moon

for connection.

Mary Metzger is a New Yorker living in Moscow

One Comment

  1. Avatar Gary Corseri says:

    A poetic snapshot. A moment in time. Well-done!