New Year in Vishnyowka

                            (a lullaby)





Snow glints and softens

a pig's slaughter.



Mama refuses another 

drink, mama 

agrees to another drink.



On the wall—a carpet with peonies,

their purple mouths 

                     suck me into sleep.

Small, 

        I've been bedded. 

                                            Toasts

from across the wall, 

                     my lullabies. 

Mama says no-no-no 

to more drink.



My bed smells of valenky. 

Without taking its eyes off me

a cat 

licks its grey paw as if sharpening a knife.

Mama yells yes to another drink.



Mama's breasts are too big to fit into packed morning buses.

There's uncertainty 

                                 I would grow into a real person.

But on a certain day 

in Vishnyowka, 

a pig



is slaughtered, mama whispers yes 

yes yes yes 

to more drink,

I'm vanishing into the peonies’ throats,

peonies smell of valenky, 

                                 of pig’s blood

on the snow.



*



Clock’s hands leave a strange ski track.