BY JAY WELLER
YOU ASK ME WHERE MY OLD LOVERS GO?
I SENT THEM TO THE GULAG ARCHIPELAGO
I PLACED THEIR PHOTOS IN A BOOK
AND CLOSED IT SHUT WITHOUT A LOOK
LAID THAT BOOK UPON ITS SIDE
TRAMPS AND ANGELS AND NUMBERED BRIDES
BETWEEN ITS PAGES ALL BEATIFIED
TO THEIR BURIED DARK UNKNOWN
LOST IN THE GULAG ARCHIPELAGO
CAN GROWL AND RAVE WITHOUT DISPUTE
DEVIL TONGUES ARE RENDERED MUTE
ALL CLOSED AND SHUTTERED, LOCKED AND STOWED
DOWN IN THE GULAG ARCHIPELAGO
PERFUME FADES BETWEEN COFFIN PAGES
AS LOVE AND PASSION DECAYS IN STAGES
AS MORE HEARTS FOREVER BROKE AND SOLD
BINDING CRACKS UNDER HEAVY LOAD
AS GOD PROCLAIMS, HENCE IT GOES
TO STAND ALONE ON AN ARTIC FLOW
WHERE A SOMBER SKY HANGS A FEEBLED GLOW
WHERE NO MAN COULD EVER HOPE TO GROW
A MADDENED RAVING LOTHARIO
LOST IN THE GULAG ARCHIPELAGO