Sometimes she did not know what she feared, what she desired..
She sits in her bedchamber
wearing a white gown with pearls.
Her hands are cold pinning up
the last strand of hair. Candlelight
flickers in the glass; and she glides
over the lake she knows from a scene
in their love affair. Its water trails the wind
like a blue eye to that steep corner
of hillside woods where a train whistles
through old pines. The sound underscored
by the tune of a child’s toy, barely heard
but coming from the womb of the forest.
Steam curls loosely along Winter’s neck
and she feels part of herself tumbling
out of place, a black tress falling
over a neckline of fur. Her shape
is flung suddenly under wheels, relinquished
to ash and evergreen while a young horseman
stares. His face luminous in shock.
The wet chill of dawn.
Note — the beautiful picture is a scene from the movie “Anna Karenina” starring Keira Knightley; and the poem , itself, takes artistic liberty contemplating the premonition Anna had in the novel of her own passing.