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At Lenin's Tomb, Moscow, 2, Quatrain From An Undergrad History Major
You thought to impose, on the world, your Bolshevik order---
a vast hegemony (you hoped) that no capital border
could limit; but now the Soviet Republics are as dead
and cold as you are, within that cube of stone, painted blood red:
as inert as your toppled, shattered statues, Ilyich---
you vengeful murderous bastard and damnable son of a bitch.
Starward
