shadow birth

where did the shadows come from? the day was bright and fair, the breeze was not a burden. they came and went so sweetly, latticework curled softly by. through leaf-ed cathedrals, apartment windows, posted bus-stop schedules and the mingled grumbles of a city not quite sleeping yet, an afternoon nap. sunshine and the moving air, … More shadow birth

crawl

Wet tea leaves spilled on gritty hardwood floors, dirt tracked in by dogs and last autumn’s skeleton leaves. White plaster window frame darkens, smog and grease. The ants crawl neatly by. … © 2018 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.

fear again

When you hear the voice it does not stop and nor can you, frail droning weakens in the wind, quick turn behind you. Pace endlessly, then end. There is nothing left to do. Look up in horror as the airplanes fly too close. Is this, again, again, how it all stops? … © 2018 Anna-Christina … More fear again

baby bird

Fallen from the nest before the flight feathers, fragile feet rigor mortis, crushed and curled. The fetid urine of a dog in heat, hot plastic, leather, tawdry chafe. The seam of the sidewalk holds the body, soft wet wings unfurled. … © 2018 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.

a little city song

If this should come to naught and the nothing is a choice, all that mourns in grey grimed streets wrecked with wasted winds will voice the sorrow that careens full fleet through avenues too bright; mid-flight the pigeons swerve and bank, avoid the light. … © 2018 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.