advent journal: insulatus



I don’t have time to tell you
the whole story, but I spent
a week in St. Petersburg
it was Leningrad then

a perfect graduation gift
for a Russian history major

the center of the city
was a collection of islands
connected by drawbridges
we didn’t really notice

until we were out late
in the endless daylight of

an early Soviet summer
and they all went up to
let the ships pass leaving
us on park benches

isolated–from the Latin:
to make into an island

we are nearing the contrasting
solstice here in New England
the bridges have been up too long
for my health or my liking

an intimacy with isolation
is not something I desire

an old Russian man told us
the bridges went down at five am
we found solace in the story
of survival we would tell

what will we say of these days
when I finally get to you?


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