warm live thing
BY GALA MUKOMOLOVA
I was a warm live thing that wanted
to be loved above all others. Seer. With my father’s
playing cards spread semi-circle around me. A hand
hovering over each for an answer.
O. Hot hand. Current buzzing in my palm. Currant,
blue and bitter in my mouth. Some song
from childhood. Song wearing beaded bonnet.
Kalinka! Kalinka! So close to my own name—forget
it. Someone I love
someone I love, burst berry in the mouth
hand on fire, open circuit. Circle broken. It’s all up
and given.
Photo of the moon. It’s barely a moon
some hole ripped out of black paper.
