(16 August 1902 - 8 November 1978 / Latvia)


Breathing heavily,
his right hand
dropped to his side.
he clutched to the piece
like a respirator.

A chance meeting
led to marriage.
Friends surmised
a blissful union.
After twenty years,
he found the mounds
under the sheet.

Unprepared for betrayal,
he rushed to the rack.
His index finger retracted twice.
What was released,
met its targets fatally.

He scribbled a few more lines,
on the paper,
raised his right hand and groaned.
The flame,
from the bunsen burner,
flickered and blew out.

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