[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.

[symbol] ’s the foxes and the wolves.

                                               [symbol] ’s the doves with their curved necks

waiting out the rain.  [symbol] ’s the grass

                                               starting to shake. [symbol] ’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. [symbol] ’s my samovar,

the steam that makes my cheeks glow

                                               so all the women talk. [symbol] ’s the snow

covering the wolf’s tracks,

                                               the party of sleds sent out and not returning

[symbol] gives me whose alphabet of notes

                                               One by one each day. [symbol] ’s a thousand pages

read across the endless plains til [symbol] rides hard

                                               beneath my window and helps me down

as the first flakes fall and I say,

                                               You brought the first snow for me.

Credit

From Rocket Fantastic (Persea Books, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by Gabrielle Calvocoressi. Used with the permission of Persea Books.