Anna Karenina / November 18, 1918

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To Ghazaleh

You depart.

The train has stopped.

No! Clouds do not float with the wind.

The sheets are wrinkled

& dreams are shrunk

& grown are the stones’ shadows:

The newsman’s dirty hat & the greasy locks of hair

& conversation circles & the smell of smoke

misty lenses of glasses & dusty telegraph wires

& stains of snow & the sun

& tic-tocks of the station’s slow clock

& the unsafe refuge of the stairs

& the morgue-smelling newspapers.

Who is standing alone against the wind?

And the silence

whistles

& the lamps smoke

& the glasses break.

Signs that whirl

& faces that whirl

& recede & whirl

wrinkle & whirl

& whirl & are hollowed.

What a ridiculous dance

on the wires & broken glasses

to the black blind cat’s black wail.

Sheets were white

& names & letters too

& the snow flamed on the windows

& kisses slid with the breath on the skin

& the horse was exhausted & the horse’s memory was exhausted & exhausted

was the death blow

–– who stands alone against the wind? ––

& the big crazy boy pulled the emergency brake.

The train stopped.

Junctions ––

Newspaper headlines browse the deserted stations

& drowse at the windows in the pale sun as the evening breezes wheeze.

The train has stopped.