Babi Yaga Poem by David Levitas

From out the Shambles, I first heard that tune
A Juke Box pouring forth its wine like nectar;
Of golden hearts, lost a bleeding, seeking
For what can never be, when whips reeking
The hide of bulls, strut from hands; sick Hector
Bleating in Andromarche's arms, his lost moon.

'Tween York's towers, my body's family burned,
Incarcerated to pay gilten dues
To those who goose-stepping, wanted still more,
But bridled at resistance, and still poor,
Seperated man from wife, goy from Jew
To feed its program that had never learned.