All the huskies are eaten. There is no space <br />left in the diary, And the beads of quick <br />words scatter over his spouse's sepia-shaded face <br />adding the date in question like a mole to her lovely cheek. <br />Next, the snapshot of his sister. He doesn't spare his kin: <br />what's been reached is the highest possible latitude! <br />And, like the silk stocking of a burlesque half-nude <br />queen, it climbs up his thigh: gangrene.<br /><br />Joseph Brodsky<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-polar-explorer/
