Her for Her (Ode to Anna Akhmatova)
Her soul is overfilled bursting like a red pomegranate seed
With a suicidal thought and how to bleed
Recalling Her nested in her soul
Heart’s pounding love for her to dole
Whose life from men her life began to roll
Though, she did not call for Adam as all know
Instead she called for Eve to compensate her bliss
Her rib for her she would agree to miss
As now she drinks sweet wine from her lesbianic chalice
Swears to place her on a pedestal and build her palace
Her silent pain of how men treated her, befall
Of putting up another stone upon her wall
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