A shadow lingering in the Akhmatova light
Gumyliov had a daughter
Abandonded in an orphanage, she starved to death near Petersburg 1921

baptism of blood and salt
such color and taste for
a brief and bitter monologue

do some wombs just spill
is birth the cresting of a world spawning sun
the tonguing downward
root of a new word
never before spoken in an unending language
particular humanity pouring out and flooding the universal

or can one sentence balance some lives off the ground
like a bitter child dragging a half forgotten doll

history is the psychosis of cold dark years diluting
the immeasurable burning into a dim star
beyond wish
outside constellation

Oh my daughter 
root and sun
Is there some where we will be remembered
A sky so deep and wide that every light can stretch its fullness without loss of brilliance or distinction
Where every word can blow its story across the waters
and so begin a world

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