Dear Jenny (III) -- Genya Turovskaya

[aimlesswanderer.livejournal.com]

Dear Jenny (III)
by Genya Turovskaya

Dear Jenny, I think I am growing colder. It is cold today
                         and it will be cold tomorrow.
It rains today and it will rain tomorrow. It rained yesterday and the day before, and it will
          rain the day after. The newsprint bleeds and disintegrates
state secrets, red alerts, yellow, the moon, happiness, the molecular
structures of pulp,
                                  and still it persists.
I didn't want to keep going, Jenny, but the organism persists. It is feeding time again
        and the troths are filled.
I want to say that I have made something stop
moving: the sweeping machines, the weeping machines. I was ready
to commit acts of folly and great danger: Jenny, I have slipped
my books into your library, I've dog-eared the important passages, I've hidden
notes between the pages. They all say:
this letter was for her, then it was for no one, now it is for you.
                                   Jenny, I didn't want to live
but for the pocketful of seed in my coat, the packet of seed in the pocket of my greatcoat.
The lock of hair in the locket. There is rain in my shoes and there are flocks
                       of sparrows in the subway, and if ever
there was a call to love, this is it, Jenny. You came and then you fell, not like water
            but like concrete,
and all the trees are uprooted, waving their tentacles in the air,
and Jenny, it is much too quiet.

Comments

[spessartine.livejournal.com]

Wow. Thanks for posting this. Now to search out more from Genya Turovskaya!