~
*You are 
the river that runs
beneath this city.

You lend 
the beautiful but empty 
buildings a beating heart.

And the buildings were essential. 

They were a part 
of the lives unfolding 
in their shadows. 

Sometimes it 
almost seems like 
they are listening.

I'm sinking inside them.

Tell me a story 
about an outgoing road,
the house where you grew up
near the Sea of Azov.

I think 
I flew there once.

The birds 
that perch inside my chest
sing loud, sing soft.

Maybe they 
will sing again for us 
tomorrow.*
~