Am in the bar finding traces of love in my veins,
and I am warm, falling...
recalling shot after shot—sounds of Russian drinking songs ring in my
Waking, I found nurses in squeaky soled shoes who surrounded me,
injecting shot after shot to keep the poison at bay.
It was not traces of love I found in my veins...
but traces of death in my soul.
They say you'll know when they come,
but they came silently, in the guise of brotherhood.
I thought a few drinks at a bar would harm no one.
I was no longer a traitor—let bygones be bygones.
Drink and forget what could poison the evening.
Well, this was how the Bureau always said its good-byes. I'm not surprised
Good-bye wife. Good-bye, comrades.
Farewell my love—
my jealous mother Russia.
And with a sigh,
I give up the fight.
Send one poem only to wildamorris[at]ameritech[dot]net (substitute the @ sign for “at” and a . for “dot”. Be sure to provide your e-mail address. Include a brief bio which can be printed with your poem, if you are a winner this month.
And Remember: The January challenge is still open, and will be until there are a few more submissions. Check the January post for complete rules.