Here, while I sat on the rooftop
with Chekhov on my lap,
the sun almost down
on the other side of
my neighbor’s high walls
suddenly, as out of fright,
Russia fell through my fingers
and I was like, ah!
my Russia, my white Russia,
inked with celeste florals.
Как ты упал!
(if you must know this is
‘How fallest thee’,
in Russian obviously)
after pondering
for a moment and half
I finally stooped low,
picked Russia up
and placed it in between
the 4th act of The Three Sisters.
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