Poetry from Mykyta Ryzhykh

Pillow feather hunts pillow feather

The bed still remembers the shapes of our bodies

Outside the window the air turns into graves for the missing pilots

I dream of fucking you as before as before your funeral

***

I want to be the rain that washes off your skin

I don’t want to be the tear that washes away your joy

The tree controls the leaves and the soil controls the dead

You control my heart and I have nothing left but my heart

My brother Brutus is shaven and white like ivory

I’m coming from to your house to save you from my brother

I’m not going to your house so I’ll save you from myself

I never had a brother in reality and I will never betray myself again

I’m walking down the street in the middle of the day and it’s dark all around

***

ring on my finger

centenary rings belonging to a tree

I freeze unable to say a word

my hope is my leaves

months of my existence pass in anticipation of the birds

but the birds scattered all over the world in search of a new home

only the little boy inside me is still hiding in the basement

of his parents’ house trying to escape from air bombs and missiles

***

birds drink the silence

of a broken sakura

branch like for the first time

***

eyelashes tied in knots

but the eyes still see how the oak says

goodbye to yellowing leaves

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