Chris Moran: After Reading Akhmatova

for Jane Kenyon

What can I name my grief, again, today?
A nickel frozen in the sidewalk?
A tumbling paper bag?

Where can I go, again and again, that I 
cannot smell the stubble of your cheek,

or trace the curl of your thumb
against my breast?

You play with me thoughtlessly
like an old band-aid.

In this city I can walk for thirty blocks.
The air feels like cold tar soup.

Once in a while, I pass a tree.
It only shares 
that you’re not here.



April 7, 2019, City Lights Bookstore, San Francisco.

Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Star Dylan “Chris” Moran

One comment on “Chris Moran: After Reading Akhmatova”

1. anna mosca

   March 3, 2020

   

   Immortal poetry, every time I read her words they are powerful as the first time! Thank you for sharing her poetry.

   LikeLiked by 1 person

   Reply

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