sleep-heavy eyes, my hand reaches for you
then flinches – you’re nowhere in view.
the imagined shape only a breath ago
fled like a bandit
into dawn’s dissolving glow.
now my waking mind falters,
disappointment finds the door
through which you chose to leave –
once more.

Some of the foulest things
Were conceived
In the most beautiful
Of places
The pure alpine breeze
Cooled the mechanics
Of the elimination
Of races
Verdant green
The backdrop
For reeducation
Stark Mother Russia
The denouncements
The Cossackification
White Plains
Trinity
The United Nations.