Gatchina

In an old photograph, the last tsar

rows his straw-hatted  family across a lake

at Gatchina, the water placid, mirror-still,

their reflections barely distorted,

the only disturbance the swoosh of the oar–

a moment stolen from history,

the bloody future unforeseen.

 

Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper

 

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