Janice M. Bostok

Pre-Dawn in Tecuci

1 lying awake in pre-dawn grey we listen to the staccato voices of farm workers leaving the city to work the communal farms a clip clop of horses’ hooves penetrates thin morning air and coughing tractors pulling trailer-loads of men sitting in rows on long wooden benches move farther away as i curve into your back thankful that you will not leave me alone in this foreign city a nightmare which forever plagues me when we travel

2 in my dream you turn calling to me just as the labourer who leaves home in all seasons calls as he retreats beyond the yard beyond the gate beyond the far bend in the long long road i hear my voice echo unable to respond to the rising sun a warmth not found in the empty house now that you have gone

3. a crow slips into
the distant pine tree through
a broken branch
so easily calling
to its mate as it arrives

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