Fuck. Baba’s disembodied hand tracks her through
the thicket branches snatch blood on her dress.
Mud-kneed, Vasilyssa opens
Baba’s gate. Wide, the metal groans, an animal
nears: more teeth than dog. Vasya’s got no meat
to please it.
One story with no mother's blessing: Baba rides her
mortar, pestle proud
against the bones and forest floor.
Behind her, a broom of birch that sweeps her traces.
Vasilyssa always comes to call. She's careful
with a name. Twice is a song, three times a curse.
Which do you say in the mirror at night? Which
one follows you down the street panting come here
pretty girl, come here.
No firebird, ash is ash. Friday night fireworks break
the sky. Coney Island's all smoke, your eyes burn &
each blast thrums your bones. Never mind
the night walk, boardwalk planks lit
up from under with another life.
Come here Красавица
you know too much
you grow old too soon.