Against
Then how do tyrants kiss, he wonders,
Weakly or persuasively?
What bright arms will they possess,
What lands, what ways, what people?
Maybe they don’t kiss, I answer,
And I push knuckle deep
Into the grass, see how it yields,
The roots are thin and dry, but then
I reach the soil and it resists
And pushes back, is damp, is living
Weakly or persuasively?
What bright arms will they possess,
What lands, what ways, what people?
Maybe they don’t kiss, I answer,
And I push knuckle deep
Into the grass, see how it yields,
The roots are thin and dry, but then
I reach the soil and it resists
And pushes back, is damp, is living
One, Too
You won’t avenge the poisoning
Because you want the recipe
Alright, it went like this:
Longing outpaced what was longed for
Even hurtling past receipt
And, unrestrained, condemned me
To stand bent and muttering
Among henbane and reeking wormwood
Skimming both palms along the surface
Of the cursed, unclean water
You see, I had to do this
Because I’m not a witch
Releasing shrieking birds
I set the dervishes to whirling
To absolve and purify
The yellow stench of my intent
You, written into that night,
Arrived hungry, nostrils twitching,
The corners of your eyes less fine
Than the upward points
Of a fatal calligraphy
“Is something burning?” “No.”
Shrugging, you took the cup
I didn’t watch the transformation,
Instead, leaning from the window,
I calculated distances. I’m loyal only
To what hasn’t happened yet
Because you want the recipe
Alright, it went like this:
Longing outpaced what was longed for
Even hurtling past receipt
And, unrestrained, condemned me
To stand bent and muttering
Among henbane and reeking wormwood
Skimming both palms along the surface
Of the cursed, unclean water
You see, I had to do this
Because I’m not a witch
Releasing shrieking birds
I set the dervishes to whirling
To absolve and purify
The yellow stench of my intent
You, written into that night,
Arrived hungry, nostrils twitching,
The corners of your eyes less fine
Than the upward points
Of a fatal calligraphy
“Is something burning?” “No.”
Shrugging, you took the cup
I didn’t watch the transformation,
Instead, leaning from the window,
I calculated distances. I’m loyal only
To what hasn’t happened yet
|
Sveta Yefimenko is a writer and researcher whose works appear in literary and academic journals. She lives in Boston, Massachusetts.
|
