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.