Russian Poem 3


what does it matter
what they think
the escalator riders
round white faces
eyes darting
in statue-like repose
varied visitations
of a metro madonna

spoke we of revelation
how immersed in the warmth
we shook with delight
then pulled ourselves
together again
and stepped into the stream
of window framed humanity
momentarily frozen
for careful inspection

why not people in mass
as objects of art
we need not pose
for taken in quanta
life becomes art
I look at you
you at me
we become one another
and in becoming
we are no less than
the adoration of the maji