Some Kinds of Fire
Anna Akhmatova burned her poems and the light of Madrid was like water at La Latina luncheonette I ate a cup of chocolate and a motor oil churro every day for a week recovering ...the cherry bomb alley that was our street Hotel Chelsea ablaze from a rum-soaked pillow and a cigarette, 1977 iron balconies were dropping like lace windows were popping like sobs... "Can you describe this?" someone asked Anna Akhmatova as she stood on line "Yes" she said "I can"
Copyright © Tina Cane. Used with permission.