Yes
I love fights: July, shut-eye, my mind. Today it’s him and how very odd that it’s all OK—no fire, no flood no impossible wrestle in endless supply. I dream up a Goliath on the Mildmay Line to twist and hit and twist till I wring blood. The worst part being how it feels good to infinitely sink into the sublime… Read more →
Aubade for the Lonely After
For when my hands grasp at the secret soaked silk sheets, and trace coolness up to the warmth of where the sweltering Texan sun beats. Thoughts haven’t slept silent and naked in days. Almost years. I am relearning facts about loss. How to allow grief to sit at a nightstand. Birds call their beloveds in adjectives. No cryptic verb or… Read more →
Tetiana Yatsechko-Blazhenko (a slideshow)
Ebbing
The lagoon with you, rock formations we’ve never seen before like gifts from space or as if the wind was a dog chewing them beyond recognition. The sign says not to jump in— the waves would dash us against sharp stone while molten sunset washes over, our blood melting orange as we dissolve into fire-spun sea. So we don’t, and… Read more →
Adjustments
You better fix this. He stands at the entrance in a sweater vest and baseball cap, waiting for me to come to him. I’m alone in the shop. I’d love to sir, but I’ll need you to remove your hat. He looks past me, tells me the glasses are wrong and crooked and for the amount of money we charge… Read more →
Witness
The perfect woman, you witness and do not speak. You are the mirror of the men who made you and the heir to memories not your own. A pedestal lifts your giant body to the sky. But history is concrete on your feet and drags you back to earth. They called you mother of exiles and the homeless but never… Read more →
Transformation
Salted air instils whimsy flings me away from the sea in its choppy security opens me into everything I pretend to be.
butterfly house
wear white. bring cash. give up the sticky sidewalk for a swallowtail to kiss your fingertip with its feet. ignore the caterpillar who’s attached its body to the glass. don’t ask how long, or where, or whether the monarch will ever make it home. I wanted to wear bugs in my hair like jewels and emerge in pursuit of a… Read more →
