by Pavel Chichikov
For weeping ghosts there is no rest
The dim light of the Metro station
Hides their faces – light is shadow
To these half-substantial ghosts
One I saw from the police
Whose orders were to force confessions
By any means and he agreed –
Will his weeping ever cease?
I saw one who fed the swans
At Novodevichy
With gobbets of a prisoner's flesh –
Now a ghost he's still a living man
I saw one who pulled the heads
From children's dolls
To search for secret documents –
Is he not completely dead?
They watch the new immortals go
Through the turnstiles
Having paid the mortal fare –
But these are not allowed
All the dead who die today
Pass along through passages
Circuitous and straight
That lead them all away
Stopped, stopped, stymied
A ghost who needs to die
Since death will not be found –
Death to life allied
Until a victim whom he knew
Notices, and takes
The weeping phantom by the hand
And leads him through
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.