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Second Madrigal

to A.B.


as with blue stone the "special treatment"
was quietly staining your face
and with a green lamp on the watchtower
they loved the fact of your being

but the ash
did it touch you on the neck in sleep
like children - weakly then more strongly !
and a handful of it fitting as a tree
in festive light it is it is
perhaps near the poplar oh over the yard by the path
or somewhere birds will start singing again

but at evening the metal of trolleys is pitiful
- who more than they can forgive
why do such stabs bring joy
and they all wanted themselves to adorn you
but many not knowing how

oh I shall preserve this wound as a centre
I shall say let it shine
let it shine with existence
you slide away and already a star

and so that it alone should be
it is time to quench the end where I am



( A.B. - the poet Anna Barkove, a victim of Stalinist repression )