Her stoic mother kissed her,
the day the man took her away,
Smolensk to Moscow, a measure of tears
that never flowed for the Motherland–
there is duty, and there is love–she remembered
her stoic mother kissed her–
not the first time, but definitely the last,
while the embarrassed sun sulked behind the clouds
the day the man took her away
to that gated place. She learned to dissemble–and excelled–
yet inside a child remained, hurting–
Smolensk to Moscow, a measure of tears.
A wisp of a story in a cascade poem for Jane Dougherty’s prompt, using the above image, Moscow Metro by Michael E. Arth, as inspiration. I picked Smolensk because that’s where the character Elizabeth Jennings came from on the show, The Americans.