It's hard to comprehend
White horses
Did not arrive
In the end
Across the seas
Across the Urals
To where you are standing
Dead
But these days
I can tell you
On my word
I hear them
Clop clop clop
Tramping for you
The distance
Over these
New Soviet cities
Sighing chrome and silver
And coughing up nightsticks
Breathing in black windows
Breathing out white ribbons
- Alan Jude Moore