Some Kinds of Fire

　　 by Tina Cane

　　 Anna Akhmatova burned

　　 her poems and the light of Madrid was like water

　　 at La Latina luncheonette I ate a cup of chocolate

　　 and a motor oil churro

　　 every day for a week

　　 recovering

　　 ......the cherry bomb alley that was our street

　　 Hotel Chelsea ablaze from a rum-soaked pillow and a cigarette， 1977

　　 iron balconies were dropping like lace

　　 windows were popping like sobs......

　　 "Can you describe this？" someone asked

　　 Anna Akhmatova

　　 as she stood on line "Yes"

　　 she said "I can"

　　-