IMPROVISATION#114
ANATOLI GLADILIN'S EXILE

We live in exile
by street lights
searching in the snow
or by shining lamps
with a razor's edge
hearing Chopin's etude
on the afternoon radio
at our open window
a crow's dour uproar
or winding by roads
of a once golf course
in the hedgehog meadow
of geraniums in Paris
finding a source of mushrooms
in the wide fields
of a shadows ledge
hearing a helicopter
dancing in the clouds
with a bluebird's song
along a purple skyline
through a rock faced dusk
with embarrassing thoughts
raging in our rooms
gesturing for the right word
not annoyed
though there is a storm
blowing near the Seine
hiding by the fireplace
near the hallways
there are my mirrors
seared to lose myself
yet always to trace
the gingerly grimace
or tawny-eyed smile
of being reborn in a poem
today or yesterday.