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
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.
*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
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.
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.
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.
The stairs were not there. Instead, opaque white plastic sheeting and orange cones consumed the crumbling concrete with the warning of new steps to navigate when the concrete dried and the caution of tape was soothed to safety. But now no cautious step could stop me when I set my instep on the railing, heaved … More bruise
Midnight tulips and the newest breath are shattered petals under icy faucets, and my ragged lungs bloom smoke. Cold air and a little gasp in the dark, and I might learn to love you yet as the petals freeze. … © 2016 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.
They tell me that my first word was strawberry. Of course, it was more like sogabie, but a valient effort nonetheless. Before mother, before father, it was a fruit. … They read to me about a badger whose favorite food is bread and jam. It is called Bread and Jam for Frances. I do not … More bread and jam and strawberries
note: from wherever it is in the Bible that Moses and the Israelites find manna in the desert. always such a moving episode. ~acb … Manna not from heaven, but from the road beneath; wandered in the wilderness, sought for what was meet in the vengeful eyes of god. Who could have sought such sugar, blended sour with the … More manna not from heaven