[Locked away we’re like a Russian novel:]
Locked away we’re like a Russian novel:
the hermit and the cowboy,
me stepping from the train.
A world of snow. Whose Great Coat a den
of baby foxes skinned and sewn together.
We’re a field of stars,
all the peasants’ sheep shorn in haste
made into a carpet placed beneath my feet,
the stationmaster’s son sent through the night to find us
this small room.
’s the foxes and the wolves.
’s the doves with their curved necks
waiting out the rain. ’s the grass
starting to shake. ’s the medals
on whose own bureau, the silver
glinting on whose horse’s bridle.
I said, Samovar sounds like a knight.
It’s just a fancy tea pot. ’s my samovar,
the steam that makes my cheeks glow
so all the women talk. ’s the snow
covering the wolf’s tracks,
the party of sleds sent out and not returning
gives me whose alphabet of notes
One by one each day. ’s a thousand pages
read across the endless plains til rides hard
beneath my window and helps me down
as the first flakes fall and I say,
You brought the first snow for me.
From Rocket Fantastic (Persea Books, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by Gabrielle Calvocoressi. Used with the permission of Persea Books.