Flocks Are Flying
Alina Simone
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Carried under arm into the steppe, sermon in your ear
A low bow, flocks are flying
A kerchief to the heart, a stone around the neck
A gulp in the throat
Maybe they will forgive
A ribbon on the chest
They searched for so long
Clenched teeth, forward time
A cross under the window, tired elbows
Banner on a bayonet, fox to the chickens
A gray calm, lulled by the wheels.
Trembling veins, travelling light
Blonde and barefoot, a middle finger in your face
Running alongside on a leash
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Eternal flame, florescent lights
Dark passage, eyes widen
Strong brew, cry my loved ones
Corner, candle, table, icons
Carried under arm into the steppe
Flocks are flying
Maybe they will forgive