RAMBO READS RIMBAUD
do
not ask me to describe/ the ambience of a cramped compartment at
05:47 in the morning/ somewhere between Tbilisi and Batumi/ ears
pricked to surprising cosmogonies/ across me/ from opposite top bunk/
hand extends into and finds rest in the unmeasured centre of room/
silver duckling laughing perhaps/ underneath, a professor in physics
from university of Tbilisi reads prayer written on tiny piece of
folded paper/ rocking back and forth/ husband, the journalist,
sleeping/ drawing blessed breath from hole in throat/ and coughing
into tiny napkin clenched in fist/ do not ask me to describe the
taste of Kakhetian wine shared yesterday/ or sound of humming baby
crying tracks clanking creaking doors station calls/ what can be
said/ other than that they are starting to sound like noises from
back home/ that wine makes lake in heart/ to swim in boy man old
fart/
