The Snap Shot Poem by Sheena Blackhall

'Exactly 80 years after their execution by Bolshevicks in Ipatiev house, on July 17 of 1998, the last Czar of Russia and his family were buried in the crypt of St Petersburg's St Peter and Paul Cathedral. Addressing the burial ceremony, President Boris Yeltsin described the murder of the Romanovs as one of the most shameful pages in Russian history and urged Russians to close a 'bloody century' with repentance.'

The photographer’s assistants bring two chairs into the room
These are for Alexei and Alix,
Everyone else stands.

There are eleven in the line-up
Not counting the family dog.

It’s an official snapshot
The photographer arranges them into a family group
The better to capture the essence of the subjects.
The angle is all-important in such matters

The parents, Nikki and Alix, are partially exposed
As being the photographer’s fixed focus
He will catch their living likeness
It is a powerful composition
It will be tricky to develop

The frame is perfect
The children need no ambient lighting
The tone of their skin is one of wintry transparency
Though the cook, the maid, the valet and the doctor
May fade in the darkroom of history

Olga is short and blonde, snub nosed and serious
Tatiana is tall and slim, a grey eyed pianist
Marie is always in love with some boy or other
Little Alexei’s a piner, in his sailor suit
Anastasia’s the imp, the tomboy, the clown of the clan
Smoking fags on the sly, clanging the balalaika

The photographer, having arranged them,
Confesses the snap shot’s a ruse
For ease of execution.

The photographer’s assistants pull their weapons
Alix crosses herself. Guns flash.
Like Faberge eggs, the fallen princesses
Hold hidden treasures. Jewels sewn into corsets

Across the floor of a Siberian cell,
Still life, its negatives drying.