Page 27 - WTP VOl. X #3

Ode to Lost Civilization
“It all began in many places, and at many times...”
Julian Barnes, The Noise of Time
To the sphinxes on the river,
snow blind, I took my conundrum. Unpainted eyes faced each other,
stinging maelstrom
burying stone flanks beneath snow, as in ancient Thebes, below sand. Granite riddles gird Neva’s flow
and icy hand
these one hundred eighty years, still in this open-air tomb. I, roused, carried my swaddled woes to spill
at those calm paws,
weep them into an ice puddle there. I found the oracles had their own troubles. A severed tail,
and all for what?
Blind drunk rage? A lark, prank, bet, whim? Culture hacked for a paperweight
while gilded Minerva, griffins,
cupids stared mute?
—St. Petersburgh, Russia
Martin is a photographer, translator, and Russian literature specialist. She’s been published in numerous literary magazines, and is currently living in St. Petersburg, Russia, where she’s working on a novel about the Siege of Leningrad.
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