Political Relations

In a hotel in Tashkent
the Latvian delegate from Riga 
was sucking his fishbones
as a Chukwu woman with hands as hot as mine 
caressed my knee beneath the dinner table
her slanted eyes were dark as seal fur
we did not know each other's tongue.

"Someday we will talk through our children” 
she said
"I spoke to your eyes this morning 
you have such a beautiful face"
thin-lipped Moscow girls translated for us 
smirking at each other.

And I had watched her in the Conference Hall 
ox-solid black electric hair
straight as a deer's rein   fire-disc eyes 
sweeping over the faces
like a stretch of frozen tundra
we were two ends of one taut rope 
stretched like a promise from her mouth 
singing the friendship song
her people sang for greeting
      There are only fourteen thousand of us left 
      it is a very sad thing   it is a very sad thing
      when any people   any people   dies

"Yes, I heard you this morning"
I said reaching out from the place where we touched 
poured her vodka   an offering
which she accepted like roses
leaning across our white Russian interpreters 
to kiss me softly upon my lips.

Then she got up and left
with the Latvian delegate from Riga.