Some single guns in Russian woods, add silence,
Start the merest bone vibration. A cavalry rumoured by a soft earthquake. As I lie to listen, all is quietened by the moss. My man and seventy thousand men become confused in my heart. Very clear is a little water droplet, dazzling in the dawn. And all the tiny creatures crawling towards the morning. Lying pressed on the earth, I listen and am mother to all those dying men. Lovers and sons shed in the unrhythmic boom, spine-grasping song, and then nothing but hoof-clatter on slippery, broken weapons. The night falls very velvet.


2 thoughts on “Borodino

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s