Thank you,
Misha
For the new
road to Martvili.
Past
travellers speak of attacking, rutting, gouging terrain. Now
This scold’s
bridle muffles land of
Blubbing
streams, cracked hazelnut groves, skeletal corn fields and
Abandoned
ancient cobbled stones that watch, side
Lined as
salient ornate filigree balconies, bridges from the past,
bristle with
resentment.
Underneath,
Misha,
Patriarchal
land, scattered with golden fleece promises
Calls the
beasts from wooded places
and they
come, one and all.
Cows, ducks,
goats, cocks, chicks, dogs, horses,
pigs, bears, wolves. They are set on
Reclaiming
the old road and, oblivious to your ideology, Misha, they will beat and tear
With brooms
and chairs and nettles and with righteous anger,
The new road
down.
They do not
care for your future, Misha.
The beasts
of the land return
Reclaim the
teeming earth.
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