A night of Russian Theater at the Jewish Community Center
by Rae Hoffman
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The Russians have arrived;
aged, in their polka dotted blouses
and ironed slacks.
They enter the theater
slow and robotic;
liver spotted and chubby fingered.
They kiss:
They smile,
and for once
their faces do not return to stone,
for tonight is a celebration
of the last few breathes
they will take among their own
before their tongues unroll
behind their teeth for good
and end up as characters in some book.
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