From Susan Paddon's first collection of poetry, Two Tragedies in 429 Breaths (Brick Books).

Because it was a summer of brothers. Because

Taganrog was a stinkpot in July. Because they were five

for the holidays with their parents gone

on a pilgrimage (Moscow,

holy relics, Polytechnical exhibition,

rich cousins in Shuia).

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But really because Maria

would remember the names of backstreet brothels,

the then foreign stench of lust and sweat

on her brothers’ coats, the stories

she could never

get clean.

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And because later, much later,

she would hate it, and want it

and, even later, dream it again,

and all over

again.

This is the fourth of five poems in a series dedicated to Maria Chekhov. Read the fifth poem, The Night Before She Died.

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