11 May 2014
One Night in Moscow
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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