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11 May 2014

One Night in Moscow

Posted by Oblivion in Poetry | 10:26pm

Her infirm hands held the revolver
She played, but trigger left loose
Oh! but what an aim it was
The speeding bullet
Ran through my daughter’s head

Enraged, my daughter’s father
Shot at the woman, his mother
The frail woman felt the metal
Pierce and split her heart
In twos, threes and pieces

On seeing his wife in blood
He, my father, pulled his
On his son, with an aim sharp
Into the brains it went
One thought it was the last

But when fate could play
A roulette so messy
It had one more round
The last one, for the little one
My daughter, at my father

We never lived together
But die together, we did
Or so I thought, as we
Lay, in blood, on the floor
The muzzles still fuming

I wanted to see, I remember
The spire in Moscow
That my mother told about
To her fond son, who
Shot her tonight dead

Four shots, one by accident, pull
Curtains on four lives -
Two fathers; one mother;
One husband; one wife;
One son; one little daughter

Is this cruel or is this funny
I wonder, as I gasp for breath
My eyes close; the Sun has set
And then a miracle…….

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