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.