|From the book The Beginning of a Book|
|The Subway. Moscow|
Here they are, each one in his niche,
splotched with various boils, black eyes, bruises
(never mind, it doesn’t hurt any more!):
this one crouching,
that one astride a garbage can,
that one reclining like a Greek on a vase at the Louvre.
They hope that they’re invisible,
that this too will pass.
my good brothers!
How was your banquet?
So was ours.
Larissa Volokhonsky and Emily Grosholz