IMPROVISATION#129
YOU HAVE EATEN

You have eaten
with false friends
over card tables
in gambler's dens
Fyodor,
when life in the underground
is hollow and the moon
hangs down with a grimace
with an angry face
following a river
by the Don sounds of birds
and listened to love
melodies without words
in a Russian band
without a grand style
who been put on the rack
in the back of his imagination
and left for dead
from a long corridor
after a dim witted trial
at the railroad station
helpless in a pitied heart
from a steeled grimace
of what was said
with a weak pulse
known to those who want
to a find a partner
or composing a novel
from your chosen profession
or finding a lonely beggar
under the uneven stars
or glad day friends
who often only offend you
with their hard knees
now softened in confession
more than once in the sack
taken things to pawn
with nothing in return
listening to mourning doves
and others countryside birds
readily buried in the shed
from their softened red breast
sent at every season
you have undressed
by beds of another mirrors
without laughter or reason
and sensed an early death
by the firing squad,
for many times you repented
at how clever crimes
are committed beneath
by lying low you learn
the judgmental words
you now know
of not permitting treason
from a gnashing of teeth
in the temperamental
nor ever having denied God
in a shadow's frozen breath
of a Siberian snow.