"As Soldier's March, Alfonso Covers the Boy's Face with
a Newspaper."
Fourteen people, most of us strangers,
watch Sonya kneel by Petya
shot in the middle of the street.
She picks up his spectacles shining like two coins,
balances them on his nose.
Observe this moment
--how it convulses--
Snow falls and the dogs run into the streets like medics.
Fourteen of us watch:
Sonya kisses his forehead-- her shout a hole
torn in the sky, it shimmers the park benches, porchlights.
We see in Sonya's open mouth
the nakedness
of the whole nation.
She stretches out
beside the little snowman napping
in the middle of the street.
As picking up its belly the country runs.