Sight

“My name is Fanya Kaplan. Today I shot at Lenin. I did it on my own… 
I will give no details.” – Fanny Kaplan to police upon her arrest 

Once, I’m quite sure, I could see clearly.  
I’m completely absorbed in your shadow, in the many 
things you’ve done and said and taken. 

The shiny car door opens and I think, 
at long last! Our timing: anything but uncanny, 
I’m quite sure. I could see clearly once. 

Not yet, I whisper to my cold revolving friend 
nestled in my folds of heavy wool. Many 
things you’ve done, and said, and taken. 

We draw close, my silver friend and I, 
breathing in your holy exhaust. Still innocent of any… 
I could see clearly. I’m quite sure. Once. 

I beg for your ear – closer – as the crowd jostles. 
My question will be abandoned, just as many 
things you’ve said. And done. And taken. 

My furious friend finally appears, crying for justice in  
quick cracks. One. Two. Red hush. Today, I’ve done plenty. 
Once, I’m quite sure, I could see clearly – were it not for the  
things you’ve done and said and taken.