so this is the time to be alone, and rejoice. your heart is still whole after all these years. when there was nothing save the sidewalk salt, cigarettes in the gutter and unwashed skin— it was for naught but now. you were made to button shirts, read bright-covered books. run your hands through the puzzle … More rejoice alone
the tenderness of small things; apricots lush velvet in the palm of your hand, filigree spider web. how quietly an ant breathes. slow journey of caterpillar to leaf, dawn to dusk. I found a down feather today, perhaps a bird will bloom from it. … © 2019 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.
I wait for telephones to ring, books lie unopened in my lap. After all is said, and done, and wept, I doubt he will come back. My hands hold knives too tightly, cut the bread too slow. Apples rot and willows bend until they bend no more. Dark gum adheres to pavement, gutter muck and … More heartache
*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
If anyone asked me now what there was between us, I would swear it was nothing. The last time we fought was years ago, three in the morning, his eyes red from drink, mine from crying. The others are wickedly hilarious at the other end of the table, laughing off the alcohol. I trace the … More the nothing
anna-christina betekhtin 