I'll Be Your Ton-ton

Watching The Empire Strikes Back on Valentine’s day,
I can’t help but think of love. Hallway crescendos in
A bleak, virtually uninhabitable Ice planet—
Almost like some winter romance
On a bench in the Petersburg countryside.

They say the chances of survival
are seven hundred and twenty-five
to one, but to hell with that!
I’ll don my parka suit
of armor and valiantly charge
into white nights, on my
ashen grey mare. The smell is
less than kind, but I so rarely
get to play the hero.

A whole moment of bliss! Is that not sufficient
even for a man’s entire life?...

Then again, one might find himself hanging
upside down with cold feet frozen
to the ceiling, and a faint feeling
from blood rushing to his head, watching a
snowy-white monster tearing flesh from limb.

A humble reply restores the innocence
of the tired phrase it leaves unsaid—
Two lovers’ farewell cemented by certainty.

Ah Nastenka, Nastenka! If only you knew,
the loneliness I endure now!

And oh, the wise wisdom that
too often comes backwards:

Looking for someone…
found someone,
you have!

Yes, it’s a cold, cold place, but know that
I’ll be your ton-ton. I will cut myself
Open spilling my guts, heart, and all
To protect you from the piercing winds,
To keep you warm within my hide.