109

1.

109 empty strollers parked
at the exit sign
sitting, their tops keeping
out the late Ukrainian March ash,

filling with runoff as the wheels
pigeon-toe and tangle
without sturdy hands to lead
and babies to quip. 

2.

109 empty strollers tremble
from Nuremberg intones
while hand flags wave
compelled by Putin

his pure white turtle 
showing the world of strollers
that stray children who belie
shall not return. 

3.

109 empty strollers admire Berlin
the rally conjuring pariahs
and false culprits with defiant fist
waved to orchestrate the sky

in the name of browning out
with attrition turned to ruble
the Ruble and Denga degrading
adding to victimization

the work of supposed American
thugs poised to rob greater Russia
of its destiny paved with
“Z.”

4.

109 strollers
are parked,
waiting to see who
will push them home. 

Michel Steven Krug is a Minneapolis poet, fiction writer, former print journalist from the Johns Hopkins Writing Seminars and he litigates. His poems have appeared in Liquid Imagination, Blue Mountain Review, Jerry Jazz, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Portside, New Verse News, JMWW, Cagibi, Silver Blade, Crack the Spine, Dash, Mikrokosmos, North Dakota Quarterly, Eclectica, Writers Resist, Sheepshead, Mizmor Anthology, 2019, Poets Reading the News, Ginosko, Door Is A Jar, Raven's Perch, Main Street Rag and Brooklyn Review.

Michael Steven Krug