M.C. Aster: Bukhara in Winter

like silver 

snow has come 

upon the minarets 

and brickwork mosques; 

the crystalline dust 

transforms 

the imperfections 

of walls rebuilt  

over centuries 

by whims of khans 

political committees 

or warring zealots— 

each one 

overruled 

in the end by 

the arbitrary 

judgments 

of earthquakes 

 

the great khan’s name 

is now inscribed 

democratically 

next to the humble 

artisan who served him 

and the uneasy truce 

between  

the past and present 

is provisionally sealed 

by a stork’s nest 

atop the tallest 

minaret