oxen & antelope

Burn the city and salt the earth. Nothing that has any worth will stay and thrive; stretch and dry the speckled hides of antelope under desert sky. Let the olive orchards die. Leave the citadel in ruins, repent on the long walk west. Leather ties bind wrists to oxen, lead them lowing on unbeaten paths. … More oxen & antelope

song of misery

Sing a song of misery, let the heart collapse. There is nothing left to mourn save what is crude and crass. Aching arms and blistered feet, bloody hands and raw, red meat; repeat the lies you once believed and give in to the bitter grief. … © 2017 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.

save the splinter

Broken eggs in unopened cartons, careful hands save the splinter from rough skin. The milk’s gone sour again, but there is no blood I can see. The feast of mold on the bread you bought yesterday and we soak your feet in warm water, try to save the things we can. … © 2017 Anna-Christina … More save the splinter

wait to bloom

For whatever reason the rose waits to bloom, I wait too. Past midsummer and the rains, autumn windfalls and winter gains, the lean sodden spring is when I trust the leaden slush and bedraggled birds to learn me a new season. What a risk to trust in this— the fetid musk of life in flux … More wait to bloom

weeping wounds & tears

Mourn not the weeping wounds and tears. Let blood congeal, slow ripples. Blistered water boil, raindrop pus. All scars were water once. Cry no pain, gasp no ache. This body will healing drown in praise. … © 2017 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.

swallow blood

*this poem in featured in “the nothing”, the previous post, but it was written before and published here before. I changed a few punctuation marks; here’s the definitive version.* ~acb … Swallow blood to staunch the grief. What bruises bulge beneath, soft flesh split, which veins spill sadness: it does not matter. Only someone must … More swallow blood

snow/slush

The snow falls. A benediction I did not ask for, the soft sting of a gift gratis. Head bowed to the wind, the unrelenting that repents. Cars careen, twisting slush along paths unseen. You will find warmth along the way. … © 2017 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.

split

The earth split open where I fell; loam and soil cannot tell of blood and bone that burst there between new snail’s shells and the moss that staunched the gravel in me. … © 2017 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.

stone

Revenge is still a stone I swallowed without knowing how long it would stay. When will it gravel? … © 2016 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.