Charles Hood, Stalin Walked Here
“Never Imagined, Never Waited”
The rumble in the distance familiar to many
Is yet strange to me, a new man
In a land floating by a river,
A wayfarer unconcerned most days
That the shadow of the war
Beyond the ken of myopic dreamers
Will become real. Yet it’s strange
To me, who packs gold into his pockets
And settles in the dust beside a wall
Trying to fade to nothing before it comes
On a road in high machines coughing doglike
Shining in a terrifying skin of metal alloys
And terror spitting stream of bullet spittle.
The rumble most days is far away
A dull storm at the door of someone’s house
The bland wind dying now
And I am at the river’s edge
Pockets out, eyes tightened and knotted
At one with the mild short-haired dog.
This familiarity I never waited for
Never imagined when I played
Children’s games.
______________________
Zeke Sanchez