Author Information
On "Wide Is My Motherland"
[To the defunct Soviet Union]
Oh, the fragrance of the summer's crop,
or wild apples in bushels on a deck,
or fragrant blossoms in distant hollows,
or (now remembeed) those deep winter snows:
you know of no place to breathe so freely
with a noose around your neck---
(Soviet justice moving swiftly;
accusation and judgment, all Uncle Joe's,
show trials and purges lead to vast slaughters)---
as you wait in silence for the gallows'
trapdoor to spring your fall to the last drop.
What happened to the revolution for which you fought?
THWUMP, and gravity pulls. Your last thought
goes to the Czar's innocent son and daughters.
