Night of the Murdered Poets

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Murmurs swallow

 syllables

they turn our room

           into an

                  ashtray

Light the bushfire of our

                             summerhomes:

money buys poetry

          frames them up

      in a fireplace

           [[terracotta]]

     a bathrobe on the Seine;

         my tongue

                         bleeds out the

window ;

              It is night.

Alicia Khoo
The Hague, Netherlands,
March 2012

In memory of the thirteen Soviet Jews in the Lubyanka Prison in Moscow, Soviet Union–tortured, beaten, isolated for three years and executed on August 12, 1952. Poets, novelists, journalists, translators, doctors, warriors.

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3 thoughts on “Night of the Murdered Poets

      • I don’t know if it needs one because the images you paint are so rich and the shape that the words themselves describe on the page is enough. I am reminded of; in no particular order, a lascivious serpent tongue, a licking exploring flame, the soft rising smoke from a cigarette, the subtle curve of a body.
        Perhaps, if you were to pick an image, something abstract might work?

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