Soviet Cold
Apr 2nd, 2009 by vkurbatov
The Soviet Cold
The fairytale of the Ice Queen finds hospitable shelter in the imagination of the Soviet youth, nurtured by bundled exposure to tundra kissed streets, rolled about in strollers of questionable second hand appropriation.
Birds land upon frozen electric wires.
Their small feet stick
like foolish tongues tempted by the forbidden metallic taste
of flag-pole.
Snow muffled final shivering chirps.
They become perfect spheres
of snow on black wire.
Then, there is too much snow to hold
and they fall
to the ground
loosing their non-confectionary powdering,
ice glazed tear drops racing down
the cheek of their last moments.
Shattering at the ground’s rough embrace
fragmenting
into a million little pieces.
This is the soviet cold.