Poetry from Mykyta Ryzhykh

***
red bones boiled in night porridge
my grandmother coughed every time bypassing the cemetery which does not exist
an inconspicuous shadow hangs on the wall of our high-rise building
birds peck at this shadow from hunger
crumbs of pigeon bread here stick to the asphalt
every grocery store in our area is going bankrupt
even the cats here don’t dare to leave a dead mouse without eating its flesh to the
end
glue for eyes and fingers in the form of world history falls on the eyelashes with
crumbs of hunger

https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/      

***
the sky is so vain that the rain ends
a stranger with the face of death gives a dead kitten
dead kitten nibbles milky evening
and its dark around after the airstrike

https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/

***
moonless night sensors
couple in love in blood and happiness
pleasure of the flesh develops into a play of shadows
the iron doors of the bedroom are bashfully silent
light bulbs don’t light for some unknown reason
only something inside the bellies warms the whole bedroom

https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/

***
hungry children racing
with pigeons run to the yard
bread of tears and water of bodies –
in that order
little sons die each
time trying to
resurrect

even snakes share
their apples with the
starving

https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/

***
broom of glances
forgive me for love
I will never forbid you
to die alone again

https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/

***
I want to be a killer sleeping on crumpled grass
I want to be buried in crumpled grass

I want to kill
I want to be

Buried under the grass is a home for worms and insects
The buried has no room for error

I want to kill the war
I want to be home

https://thegravityofthething.com/untitled-poem-mykyta-ryzhykh-2/

***
The bush is devoid of all berries
Autumn is now stripping off the leaves too
The future is uncertain

https://boatsagainstthecurrent.org/poetry/3-poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh

***
By dying like the first time you teach me to feel sorry for you
A cry torn off by the wind is carried away leaving a silent emptiness
I don’t know how to feel sorry for you because you are indifferent to my regrets
Death is just a surprise box that you finally gave me
This is your first gift to me
This is the last gift

https://boatsagainstthecurrent.org/poetry/3-poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh

***
I grab the tree but its branches don't care
I'm walking through the cemetery looking for life
I cry about the living because the
dead are indifferent to everything
I don't find anyone alive anywhere in this world
Only photographs on graves speak to me of love

https://boatsagainstthecurrent.org/poetry/3-poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh




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