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/