Poetry

I see her standing, waiting in line
outside a prison
as if becoming part of her poem
and it requiems through my mind
and I can hear her asking more
than absolution and see the Yezhov terror
through her eyes
 
and even when I read her love poems
and are caught in their rapture,
feeling as if she has captured the essence
between light and darkness
when her words end
she fades away like a spectre.