Vodka couldn’t prevent the freeze.

When proof is a drunk on percentaged street

The vodka couldn’t prevent the bol’Shoy freeze 

as earthquakes ripped through painted Moral stone

Communing with dead poets who once upon 

never learned 

From those who also wore hats like Thor’s

that resting place by electric sleeper trains 

that straddled a war torn replanned city 

As hot as a steaming plate like a South American 

summer commemorative badges and enamelled stars

Trade through hands without contemplation of 

The lost blood Driped and stained on  greying snow.
Am I eating the dumplings filled with the dead 

As the meat market ran away on its four legs

During a blonde moment

Of a Agfa liberation poppy war.
Watching money melt quicker than to cold too snow

to build tanks which now lay abandoned 

Should I scrap collected Copper coins and build

A rolled brass telescope.
Then maybe I would be able to read 

the future of my naivety born from  

originality found in contempt whilst counting sheep 

And watch a vale creation of give or take

In a nine month Residency of sleep.