I glimpsed the tattoo etched upon
Your shoulder, marble-warm and bright—
That summer day at the station at dawn
I froze as in a mirage-light...
Breathing the ghostly, sweet perfume
Of your expensive fragrance there,
Like some devoted mystic, whom
The gods have blessed, I stopped to stare.
And then the train bore you away,
While I stood frozen in the void.
I woke—the city went astray
In concrete permanence, devoid.
I stand among the strangers' shade,
Like me, all lonely, all the same,
Counting the streetlights' bright parade,
And railroad ties so harsh and lame.
Perhaps tomorrow at this hour
I'll stand right here beside the track,
And if I meet you—by fate's power—
I'll step toward you, no turning back.
Tattoo
© Copyright: Миша Биркин, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125052703192
Свидетельство о публикации №125052703192
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