31 Mar




The kings

they asked me to be prince

to play a modern Hamlet

without words to express my city

or my longing

nor the destination of it

a destiny of worried sweat

the nerves of a first wedding night

the last poem of Vysotsky

the last performance

and maybe I’ll find my way to Moscow

quit the theatre all together

or take a leave of absence

But, be shamed my beating heart

be hushed 

and by a sleep to say we end the heartache

so, suffer through

knowing the duration

time spent in the breath of clocks

until all silence is restored

and a parade of tears

follows me home

like a coronation


Leave a Reply

Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

Copyright © 2010 - 2018 jacktumult.com All Rights Reserved.